


I've Got You

by The_Torturer_Writes



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Alpha Female, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Clyde Logan Needs a Hug, Clyde Logan Reader Insert, F/M, Omega Clyde Logan, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violence, alpha reader, omega clyde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Torturer_Writes/pseuds/The_Torturer_Writes
Summary: Clyde was the family's only omega. None of his family members ever made him feel like an outsider, but he felt that he was, and he often wondered what made him so different from all the rest. How had he been the only omega for as long as people in his family could remember?
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Reader, Clyde Logan & You, Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 85
Kudos: 198





	1. I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a/o dynamics but not a werewolf/wolf fic. No pups shall be found here. But I do love the idea of a soft omega Clyde. As always, feedback and commentary are welcome and appreciated.

Clyde slid another beer down the bar to his smiling brother. He looked around, chestnut eyes crinkling at the corners, taking in all the smiling, dancing people in his place. Leaning back against the rail, he listened to them talk, smelled the celebratory cigar smoke, and marveled at his family.

It was rare that all the Logans came together. The family was large, and many of the men were alphas. Butting heads often kept the family spread out. But tonight, The Duck Tape was filled to the brim with Logans. It would be filled tomorrow, too, and maybe the night after that. 

They’d all come from hill and valley to celebrate Jimmy, and Clyde was bursting with pride.

Jimmy had taken over as head of the family tonight. He was The Alpha Logan. Watching Jimmy shake hands and pass out hugs, Clyde thought back to the last Alpha Logan, Jimmy and Clyde's grandfather. From Papaw’s passing until tonight, the family hadn't been able to decide on an alpha, someone to help guide them, keep tabs on them, and bring them together.

Clyde had observed his brother for most of the night, in between keeping all of the Logans libated, and he knew this was a good decision. It was the right fit. For all of their lives, Jimmy wanted most everyone to feel loved and valued. He was good at that, and a family needed someone to do that.

And Clyde? Well, Clyde was good at giving people a place to feel safe. He did it with his bar. He did it with his trailer after he'd bought the house just up the road. He probably would give someone that, too, if they needed it. He'd decided long ago that it was his purpose to give folks a place where they didn’t have to worry about being harmed. War does that to a man.

As he wiped down tables, Clyde glanced up to see Jimmy and Sylvia slow dancing near the jukebox, tucked in tight together, fingers entwined. His breath hitched, and he reminded himself that he was happy for his brother. Jimmy deserved his happy life, his love, his position in the family. Clyde was happy for his family, too, because they were the best people he’d ever met, and they deserved to be taken care of. But even being happy for his brother, he couldn't help feeling sad for himself.

Clyde was the family's only omega. None of his family members ever made him feel like an outsider, but he felt that he was, and he often wondered what made him so different from all the rest. He looked through the gathered family at all of the happy pairings, back to Jimmy and Sylvia, and wondered. How had he been the only omega for as long as people in his family could remember?

The weight of it had chased him off to war, and he'd come back with less than he left with and still just as uncertain of his place in the Logan family. Pressing quivering lips together, Clyde cleared his throat quietly so as not to disturb them, anyone really, and excused himself to the back room for a break.

It was dark and quiet in his office, and he dropped his long body into the rickety chair. Turning it away from the desk, he just stared out the window at the starry West Virginia night sky. He liked to be outside on nights like tonight, but he’d settle for watching the stars through his window for a while, where he wouldn’t have to answer any questions or make small-talk.

Clyde didn't like to dwell on what he didn't have. He much preferred to think about the things he did, like family, security. On nights like tonight, though, he couldn't help himself from mourning the life he believed he would never have. Drawing in a deep breath, he flexed and clenched his hands, alternating between metal and flesh the way they’d shown him in the hospital, and thought about his life.

Omega men were rare in general. Here in West Virginia, he couldn't remember hearing tell of another one. Ever. Worse than that, he’d never met an alpha woman around these parts either. Papaw had said that outliers often go away to find what they need; but if that was true, none of them had ever come back. And then, he thought he’d find someone when he joined up or maybe even when he deployed, but it didn’t happen.

For so long, he thought it had to only be a matter of time. That’s what his brother told him when he would get blue. “She’s out there, Brother,” he would say, trying to convince Clyde’s tender heart not to close up. But eventually, he’d given up on the idea. It seemed too far away.

It was this he mourned, the kind of love that would swallow him up, the kind of heat that would fill the empty that chinked at his heart and warm him from inside. It was the kind of life he never thought he would get to have. Seeing Jimmy with Sylvia didn’t normally get him down; but tonight, when everybody was celebrating, it stabbed at his heart.

As he sat in that little chair, in his little office, in his little bar, Clyde allowed himself to feel sad, lonely. His deep eyes misted; and for one moment, he wished his universe didn't feel so little, too.

Not one to let himself wallow for too long, Clyde pushed his good hand into dark locks and sniffled away his sad thoughts. He wiped at his eyes and stood, straightening his light blue shirt and dark jeans. Tonight wasn’t the night for being low. He didn’t want to bring Jimmy down; so, he was rubbing the sorrow from his face as he walked back into the bar.

Stopped in his tracks, Clyde’s head whipped towards the door, brow furrowed. He could feel that something, someone, was coming, but he couldn’t place it. What WAS that sound? That smell? Could everyone smell it? His fingers twitched, eyes narrowing slightly. Hell, even his teeth itched. Every part of him felt ready to jump, felt ready to  _ do something _ . 

But what?

The next thirty seconds rolled by in slow motion as you pulled on the door and slumped through it, crawling across the threshold on torn-up hands and bloody knees. It seemed to take all the strength you had to make it fully inside; and when you’d accomplished it, you kicked the door shut and collapsed back onto the floor, exhaling a shaky breath, face turned to one side as you lost consciousness.

Everything in The Duck Tape stopped: all of the Logans, all sound and chatter, time, even Clyde’s heart and breathing. The world dropped away as the scent of you, your blood, your hair, the dirt on your knees, wafted through the room, and he couldn’t function. He couldn’t see straight, but he could hear you, your labored breathing, your slowing heartbeat. Fire licked up into his throat from his belly, and Clyde’s pupils blew wide open.

“Miss?”

Jimmy was the first to react, sending Sylvia out to their car for the med kit she kept there. He started to move towards you, crouched down low to not scare you. Jimmy was a bigger guy, and Clyde recognized him minimizing himself to be less frightening in case you woke up to see him standing there. He stepped cautiously closer, and Clyde launched himself forward, terribly agile for such a big man. No fucking way were Jimmy’s hands going to touch you.

“MOVE!”

Clyde’s normally smooth-like-honey voice barreled through the room, all bass and command. His military voice. The voice he used to throw people out and warn them to never come back. It echoed in the bar, bouncing off the wood paneling. Every pair of Logan eyes swiveled to Clyde, never one to raise his register if he didn’t have to, as he charged across the room to you, boots stomping hard and heavy. He didn’t look at a single one of them, not even Jimmy, who was now backing away from you, hands raised into the air.

“D’you know this gal, Brother?” Jimmy leaned in to ask the question quietly, his posture hunching down a bit to make himself less of a threat to his suddenly aggressive brother.

Clyde was a million miles away. Looking down at you, he didn’t hear the question, nor did he notice Sylvia coming back inside, med kit on her shoulder. There was only you and the constriction in his chest as he looked at what had been done to you. Black eye, split lip, scraped knees. His hands curled into fists as he thought about what else had been done to you that he couldn’t see. Your pretty rose-colored skirt was dirty and ripped, and your shoulders and ribs peeked through the black shirt unnaturally, the fabric stringy from being forced apart. 

He would murder whoever it was that laid hands on you, send them straight to hell and ask forgiveness later.

Dropping down onto the floor beside you, he forced himself to be still long enough to get control, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. He could taste your scent on the tip of his tongue, and his body flushed in response. Bending forward, Clyde slid both hard arms beneath you, lifting you up and curling you into his chest. Raven tresses slid down to curtain his features as he dropped his head towards yours, chin tucked in at your forehead.

“Don’t worry, Alpha. I’ve got you.” It was a whisper, his voice just as thin as his breath.

Jimmy stared after his brother as Clyde moved through the bar faster than he’d ever seen, confusion plain on his face. At the back of the bar where the larger seats were, Clyde’s hefty boot came up to kick a table away so he could lie you down on the cushions. He was on his knees beside you the next second, flesh fingers grazing your bare shoulder, puzzling out how to go about waking you.

Sylvia darted through the maze Clyde left in his hasty wake, her training kicking in. Dragging one chair over, she reached out to tentatively touch Clyde’s shoulder, gaining his attention. He couldn’t stop the growl that rolled over his tongue, teeth bared; but when he looked up to see that it was Sylvia, Clyde’s face colored red. Shaking his head, he patted her hand gently, thankful that it was her sitting there next to him.

“Sorry Sylvia,” he choked, “Can you…”

The question trailed off because he couldn’t say the words out loud. He couldn’t ask if you were going to be ok or if there was something he was supposed to do. And he couldn’t move out of the way. Trembling fingers kept clenching and unclenching because he couldn’t help you himself, he couldn’t fix it. Even injured, you smelled so good, and you looked so broken, and he couldn’t fucking make it better.

“Clyde, let me. I can.” 

Sylvia’s voice soothed him somewhat, not just as a nurse right now but a friend, family. At another tap from her hand, he got his wits about him and scooted towards the foot of the couch. With a thunk, his ass hit the hardwood floor. Drawing one knee up to his chest, Clyde wrapped lengthy arms around it and hugged himself into a semblance of calm, but his turbulent eyes never left you, even as Sylvia worked.

“Alright y’all. Let’s clear outta here. We’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Jimmy’s smooth voice rolled through the bar, and he started corralling their kin to the door. Nobody argued with the new Alpha, and they filtered out, each stopping to shake Jimmy’s hand or pat his shoulder. Many of them offered help in any way Jimmy or Clyde might need. Just call, they said. Clyde knew they were staring; none of them had ever seen him like this. 

But then, nobody like you ever came into his bar.

An hour later, Jimmy and Sylvia were gone and you were checked over and cleaned up. Clyde was seated cross- legged on the floor, his back to you and leaned against the couch you were in, reading an old, worn paperback. Turning the page, he glanced over his shoulder for the hundredth time. He was trying his best to remain calm, be patient, but he worried over each minute that went by and you were still unconscious. Sylvia said you would be alright, nothing major was broken, and you would probably wake up soon, but it was taking an agonizingly long time.

Jittery with nerves and trying to be of some fucking use, he made you as nice of a nest as he could, given the circumstances. He’d plundered his truck for three blankets, which he’d wrapped and tucked around you; looted his office of every candle he could lay hands on, now scattered around the makeshift nest; and locked the doors up tight, only leaving the little light over the bar on, letting everything else dance in the less harsh candlelight. Towards your head, he’d set a glass of water and a small bottle of ibuprofen because Sylvia said that you’d probably be hurting pretty bad when you woke up.

“Mmnnhomega?”

Your voice, faint and groggy, startled him so much that he dropped his book. Of course you would know what he was; it was a natural ability of an alpha, the heightened sense of smell that could track his kind. But in your post-syncope fog, could you tell one from another?

His breath hitched, gutted that you might think he was someone else, someone who  **did** belong to you. Turning towards you, he crawled onto his knees and tucked in close to the couch, leaning in. His fingers flexed, metal and flesh itching to touch you, but he let them helplessly hang in the air.

“Alpha? Darlin’?”

He watched as you twisted inside the refuge he’d made you, burying your nose into the blanket and humming contentedly. He wanted so badly to crawl in there with you, and he pressed his metal hand into the back of the couch, both in an effort to be closer to you and to keep himself from doing just that. Years of waiting, hoping, and here you were. So close but still so far out of reach.

“Alpha, please say something. Open your eyes. Can you do that for me, Darlin’?”

You drew in a long, even breath, turned your face up towards him, and opened your eyes. The world stopped. Beautiful. Eyes, cheeks, lips. All of it a perfect vision. He reached up and brushed a wisp of hair from your forehead with his flesh thumb, and thanked God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost for you being alright. His weight sagged into your side, his whole body designed to want to be close to you, a subconscious plea that you see him, take him, keep him.

“You smell...” Turning your face back into the blanket, you drew in an even longer breath, humming with what he hoped was pleasure, “...so, so good.”

Heart in his throat, Clyde could only watch you, riding the idea that you knew it was him you were talking to. Sylvia said you might be a little confused when you woke up. Given that they didn't know what happened to you, there was no telling where you'd come from or who you were supposed to be with. 

Your omega, his heart offered. That's who you were supposed to be with. But not you, his brain countered. There was no chance someone who looked and smelled and felt as beautiful as you didn’t already have a mate.

Your fingers poked out of the blanket and up to touch his face, drawing him out of his thoughts. Trapped in the nest, though, you didn't have a long-enough reach, and Clyde thought he might die if you didn’t make contact. He leaned his face into your touch, a puppy seeking out affection, and felt sparks when your fingertips connected with his cheek. His eyes closed on a blissful sigh when he felt your fingers brush the black stubble, and he swallowed a whimper.

“S-Sylvia said that you’re going to be ok. You’re safe here, Alpha. You’re going to be ok.”

He stuttered, anxious voice faltering, breaking, and struggling to rebound. His eyes were wet, and he drew your fingertips to his lips, pressing them there so you couldn’t see his mouth tremble. 

Clyde was a wreck, and you’d only been in his life for an hour. Looking down, he breathed you in and decided that even if you had a partner, a husband, an omega, he would be yours tonight. He would give you anything, everything, whatever you needed or wanted.

Even if it was only for tonight.

Clyde dropped his head to your blanketed shoulder and sniffled, trying to hide the emotions rolling over him. Your fingers curled into the dark tresses behind his ear, and he shivered at the delicious contact. Turning his mouth into the fabric, he kissed it reverently, using it to muffle his soft groan as your fingers slid further into his hair and against his scalp.

“So good,” you whispered, turning your mouth against his temple and inhaling again.

You arched upwards, the butterfly of you shaking free of his cocoon, and he inhaled hard, drawing your scent into his lungs as deeply as physically possible. It unfurled into the room, sweet and tangy spice, and he panted, shaking with the effort to be still. He wanted to peel off each layer keeping your skin away from him. He wanted to whisper prayers against your body, feeling like saying them to dead air was sacrilege now.

Every particle of his being keened for you, strained towards you. His brow beaded with salty sweat, and his strong jaw ticked, tight with strain. Pushing back to gain some bearing and stop himself from outright begging for your caress, he settled onto his booted heels, knees shifting so that he wasn’t quite so tall, so far over you. Concerned eyes watched as you pushed yourself onto an elbow, and he held his hand out for you, offering himself as stability.

“Darlin’, what happened to you?”

Sliding your smooth hand into his metal one, you shook your head. He didn’t know if you weren’t sure what happened or didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t press the issue. Tugging you up, he helped you maneuver until you were sitting in the middle of the couch, the scent of you pouring further out of the nest and making him dizzy. You’d been warm in there, sweating, and it was suffocating him in the most intoxicating way, the smell of your pheromones, your sweat, your sex. He could taste it, whiskey-citrus, and he flattened his tongue against the roof of his mouth to swallow it down.

_ Lord, help me be a good man. _

“What’m I wearin’?”

Your voice was more steady than before but still sounded tired, as though you were just waking up in the morning. An image of you waking up in his bed, in his arms flashed in his mind, and his heart ached for it. Full lips tugged up at the ends, a bit of a smile at the lilt you had. You were from the country, he could tell, though he couldn’t be sure where exactly. 

“Your shirt was ripped somethin’ awful. That’s mine.”

Your fingers had curled into the sky-blue collar when you asked, and you nodded. The satisfied sound you made, and the way you dropped your face into the neck of his shirt, shot straight through him. His body tightened and hardened, and he vibrated with it, ears turning pink. Still holding your fingers in his, Clyde leaned to the right and plucked the glass of water from the little table.

“Will you drink somethin’ for me, Alpha? Sylvia said that you need to stay hydrated.”

He held it out for you, grazing your fingers with his as you took it. Sinking down onto his heels again, he watched you, trying to memorize the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed, the way your hair fell down your back as your head tipped up, the color of your fingers, your lips, your eyelashes. If all he would ever get was tonight, he wanted to remember every second of it.

You drank the entire glass of water down before handing it back to him, licking the swell of your lower lip in a way that had him mimicking the gesture, as though he could taste you there on his own lip. He felt you watching him, drawing his scent in the way he’d done yours, and he coached himself to not shy away from your gaze. There was no hiding what he was, not from you. All of him was for you tonight.

“What’s your name, beautiful Omega?”

He flew. Soared. Was looking down on the stars. For a second, he could pretend that you called him  **your** Omega. The bliss and heartbreak registered on his face at the same time, lips turning up to smile at the pretty idea and moist eyelashes sweeping against red cheeks as he knew it was fantasy. Your fingers reached out to tug on the collar of his black t-shirt, though, and he didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.

“Clyde, Alpha. M’name’s Clyde Logan.” His voice was husky, thick with emotion and his body’s natural response to your proximity.

“Of the family Logan? West Virginia?” 

Your voice was clearer now, and it rang in his ears. Coupled with the way you were tugging him forward, he absolutely fell into your arms, letting himself lean into you without hesitation. Your fingers rubbed back and forth over his jaw, and there was no containing the soft groan this time. You were stroking him. It didn’t matter where; you were doing it, and he felt it everywhere. Swallowing thickly, he nodded in response to your last question, too dumbfounded by your nearness to be able to articulate himself further.

“This your place, Clyde Logan?”

Nodding again, Clyde inched forward until his knees knocked into the couch, caging your calves with his thick thighs and pressing his hands into the cushions on either side of you. Suddenly brave, he cupped your cheek with his warm, human hand, turning your face into his, nudging your jaw with his nose before looking up at you, committing every freckle to memory. Gently, he ran his thumb against your split lip, anger flashing across his face at the thought of someone hurting you.

“You’re safe here, Darlin’. I promise.”

Your tongue poked out to lick at the pad of his thumb, and Clyde stared, hunger blossoming up and diffusing through his skin, turning him shades of pink from nose to ears. He wanted to do it again and again. He recognized the look in your darkening eyes and leaned in, hovering his mouth at yours, barely containing himself from tasting you. Too much good in him, he dropped his forehead to yours, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want you to see his need or because he wanted you to see it too badly.

“What cn'I do, Alpha? Whatever you want.”

His voice was hoarse with lust, wanting, but also cracking with feeling. His fingers skimmed down over your shoulder, slid down the elegant curve of your spine, and settled at the small of your back. His body sang out to make you feel better, and he knew he could. He could make you feel so much better, but he knew it was someone else’s place to do just that. He would give you everything if you asked, but he wouldn’t take something that wasn’t his.

_ Please, God, give me this. Just this once. _

You pushed up and captured him in a sudden kiss, and he reeled. Could you hear him begging the Almighty? Your lips were soft but strong, and you tasted better than any whiskey he’d ever had. The wet warmth of your tongue at his lips made Clyde’s knees quake, his fingertips tingle. On a whimper, he opened his mouth for you and savored every lick, every stroke of your tongue, every drop of saliva. Fighting to control himself, he fisted all ten digits into his blue shirt, and pulled you hard against his chest. In a far away recess of his mind, he registered that he’d torn holes in the fabric with his prosthesis, but he would replace every shirt in his closet just for this moment.

Clyde was generally a quiet man, but he gave every sound he had to you. The whimper he’d offered at the first fiery touch of your lips broke the dam, and he moaned, grunted, and hummed against you, too conscious of the pleased sound at the back of your throat when he vocalized his desire. You nipped at his lower lip and threaded fingers into his hair, and he licked at the roof of your mouth, not willing to fully disconnect to catch his breath.

Needing more, needing to give you more, he gently gripped your calves and adjusted your legs so they spread around him. Cupping your hips, he scooted you to the edge of the cushion and hooked your knees around his middle. He tipped his head to give you deeper access to his mouth and wrapped the corded muscle of his arms around your rib cage, squeezing you in. He basked, preened, in the pleased sound you made at his touch. 

“Alpha,” he breathed out, nudging your chin with his nose, hungering to offer himself, eyes deep and dark with yearning.

He wanted so much to pin you there, to make you feel better his way, to be sure you were sated and loose. But he wanted to give to you first. He wanted to give  _ himself _ to you, and he wanted, more than anything, for you to want that, too.

Lifting you into his arms, Clyde stood and shifted to sit in the nest, awash in the lingering smell of you there and the new, heady aroma of your arousal. You were hungry and soft and real in his arms, and he nearly swooned. He kicked the blankets away and scooted down so his shoulders hit the back cushion, settling the delicious weight of you on his lap and against his chest. His breath stuttered as you gripped the cushions on either side of his head and loomed over him, obscuring reality with your beauty.

“An-anythin' you want."

You gasped only for a second before dropping down to capture his mouth, and the moan you rewarded him with shot electric current through his belly. He lifted his body into you, hard and straining already. Curving both hands around your ample hips, he held you in place, rubbed against you, and groaned. Part of him knew you might not be fully in your right mind, but you felt so fucking good that it was blotting out all rational thought.

Squeezing his hips with your scraped knees, you rocked against each lift and thrust of his body, swallowing each moan with a satisfied purr. Still gripping the cushion over his head, you dropped one hand to his chest, rubbing at the stammering of his heartbeat, and his head lolled to one side. He pulsed with fire when you licked the roof of his mouth, nipped at the end of his tongue.

“Anything?”

Your voice was thick, a soothing balm settling over the jagged edges of him. Your nose traced the length of his bared throat, you licked at his Adam’s apple, and he collapsed into the couch, fisting his hands into the fabric at your back once more. Wide hips bucked up into yours, but he cradled you through his undulations, careful to not injure you further but not holding a single thing back. He gave it all to you.

“Alpha," he whined, "Darlin’...please…”

You had pressed your breasts flush against his heaving chest and groaned, matching the baritone that rumbled through his pecs with a vibration of your own. You nudged his chin to one side and dropped your face into the crook of his neck, and he saw stars. Hugging his hips tighter, you pressed against him, enveloped him, dragged him into a world that was just you and him and this feeling.

Your breath was coming faster now, and you leaned back in his arms so that you could push all of your weight into his lap, his pelvis, his hard, straining, cloistered cock. Gripping you tight, he pulled you down more, but still not enough, and watched your head tip back, your breasts rise on each breath, your mouth fall open enticingly.

"Look at you. You're so fuckin' pretty, Alpha."

On a pained groan, you snapped your eyes shut suddenly. Cursing, you fisted hands in his t-shirt and pushed against his chest, lifting yourself away from him. He ached as you stood yourself up between his knees, hands on your hips, chewing your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Did what you were doing suddenly click? Did you remember who you had waiting for you at home? Clyde's heart broke, but he steeled himself for what you were going to say next, forced himself to look directly at you. 

"Tell me to stop, Omega." You were breathless and flushed, and he'd never seen something so perfect. "I was raised better'n to take advantage of someone's kindness."

Clyde blinked for a moment because what you said was leagues away from what he had expected. Sitting upright, he reached for you, tugging you in, trapping you in his determined embrace, and drawing you back into his lap. He tucked your knees back on either side of his body and buried his face into the crook of your neck, hiding the relief that was rushing through his veins.

"No chance, Darlin'. I’ll tell you anythin' but that.”

Your head tipped towards him and nodded, fingers settling onto his massive shoulders, cheeks flaming red, and eyes drifting closed. Were you anticipating his voice? Eager for it? The thought had him digging his fingers into your sides, having to tell himself to ease off the prosthetic grip to not hurt you further. Using his hold at your waist, he tempted you into rocking your hips against him once more.

"You want me t'say how badly I want to taste you? T'be inside you?"

Trading one side of your neck for the other, he licked his way along the prominent vein and flattened his tongue against the gland there, growling into your ear when you curled both hands into his dark hair. Confident your hips would continue without his guidance, Clyde’s hands roamed upwards, pushing beneath the fabric of his shirt to span across your back, nails raking the sweaty skin.

“Shit. Clyde, don’t you...don’t you have…”

Not wanting to answer that question, Clyde slid fingers into your hair, splaying them along the curve of your scalp, and dipped your face down to his, tasting the arousal in your mouth and humming as your breath tickled his nose. Licking at your lower lip, he watched the frown flit away from your face, chased off by his hips, fingers, mouth. He was entranced by you, and he didn’t want anything to break this moment, least of all his sad life without anyone, without you.

"You smell so fucking good, Darlin'. So slick and ready for me. Can almost taste it.”

Clyde trailed his hot mouth down over your sternum, loosening the top few buttons on his shirt,  _ your _ shirt now, if you wanted it. He pressed wet, sloppy kisses to the valley between your breasts, lathing the skin over your heartbeat with his saliva, his scent, and crooning at the sexy sounds you made. His cock strained painfully hard in his jeans, and he was near to bursting just knowing he was making you feel so good. He could feel the harsh teeth of his zipper and the stick of his boxers to his slick-coated length.

You pushed at the column of his chest with a grunt. Leaning back, you twisted both hands into the end of his t-shirt and yanked on it. Clyde wasted no time in sitting up to throw the thing away, needing to feel your blazing skin on his. He followed suit and gripped the two sides of the button-down and wrenched them apart, sending buttons flying but freeing more of you to his needy gaze. Mouth watering, he buried his face between your breasts, arms tight around your middle, and murmured into your skin.

"M'here Alpha. Just for you. T'make you feel so good." 

He couldn’t stop the sweet nothings falling from his lips. Clyde had his fair share of lovers in his life, but none like you and never an alpha. He ached for you to know his thoughts, how you made him feel.

He wasn’t prepared for your small hand over his mouth, pushing his head back into the cushion, and his eyes glazed over. He was the biggest person he’d ever met, but in one gesture, you’d completely arrested him, taken control of him, and he moaned into your hand. He watched you, his heavy-lidded gaze blown black, long-starved lust finally being catered to, the omega roaring to the surface to be led, commanded, used.

“Stay.”

He quaked, nodding under your fingers. Your voice was strong, demanding, a touch impatient. The alpha voice. Curling his fingers into tight fists, he waited, thunderstruck, eager. He couldn’t disobey you right now for anything in the world; his body wouldn’t allow it. His Alpha had spoken. Seeing the compliance, you smiled down at him, and his heart skyrocketed that he had pleased you. You kissed the very tip of his nose and shifted your weight to let your eyes roam down his long, taut body, tilting your head in appraisal.

“You’re awful fuckin’ pretty, too, Omega.”

Clyde blushed from his toes to his ears, redness spreading all across his chest. If he had a tail, it would be thumping excitedly against the couch. He watched, greedy for what came next but pining, longing for the return of your weight upon him. His breath caught, fumbling over itself into a quick percussion as your fingers reached down to unbuckle his belt, pop the button on his pants, and edge the zipper down.

“Alpha, please, let me.”

His voice trembled, trapped in obedience but wanting to give you this, give you all of himself. You watched his struggle for a moment, the battle between compliance and sheer desire playing over his features. Deciding, you nodded and pushed back off of him completely, wobbling to stand and hooking nimble fingers into your panties, shimmying them down your legs and onto the arm of the couch. Clyde sputtered at the sight of the silky material, the thought that you were bare under your skirt, and he rushed his pants down his hips, untucking the fat length of his cock from the blue cotton briefs. He was leaking steadily, beyond excited, and he rubbed the pearly glisten of want into the swollen purple head with a growl.

His craving for you won out over his desire to unwrap you completely, and he reached out, pulling you back into his lap with a heavy arm around your middle. Pressing his forehead to yours, he gulped and reached down between you, standing the thick column of his dick straight up for you. 

“All your'n, Darlin’.” His raspy voice begged you, even when he couldn’t make any more words.

Clutching at his bare shoulders, you shifted your hips, lowered down onto the very edge of him, and broke the seal with a gasp. Clyde almost swallowed his tongue, trembling and trying not to thrust and seat himself deep inside of you, but it was so fucking good, so hot and perfect. Drawing in a ragged breath, you sunk down, down, down until you were back against his lap, the perfect curve of your ass settling against his thighs. 

Biting down into the pillow of your lip with a whimper, you stilled against him nearly completely, and Clyde just clung to you, feeling your heartbeat pulse in your cunt and the clench of your burning muscles. He knew he was big, and he knew it would take a minute before you were ok to move. He buried his face into your hair, whispering into your neck how beautiful you were, how perfect you felt against him, how amazing it felt to be inside of you. He hoped to ease your discomfort with the sound of his voice, and he was soon rewarded for his efforts when your hips dropped forward and then back again, testing the waters.

“So good,” you praised, leaning forward into his chest. “Such a good omega.”

Clyde wrapped his arm around your waist again, clutching at the bunched up skirt at your hip with his metal hand. He moaned at the drag of your hard nipples against his bare chest, and his hand splayed out over your ass, fingertips tight when it began to bounce and shake in his grip. The tight pull of your cunt drugged him into a stupor, and he could only swallow and whimper, his body shaken at each of your thrusts, his heart cracking when you said  _ that. _

“God, Alpha,” he gasped, “Please. Please say it again.”

Clyde wasn’t sure when his focus shifted from making you feel good to the way you made him feel so fucking good, but it had happened. He hugged your torso to his, anchoring himself to you, but he was lost to the way your hips worked him, your ass bouncing in just the right way, the drag of your slick, searing heat along the length of his throbbing cock, the clench of your tight pelvic muscles. He wanted to watch you, the way your breasts would bounce and your skin would flush, but he was too consumed, too overcome to do anything but press starving, needy kisses against your shoulder, neck, jaw line. 

As though you could hear his helplessness, you curled your fingers into the damp hair at the base of his neck and tugged, tipping his face up to yours. He whimpered, losing himself in your shining eyes, the hungry, possessive look there. Something in him broke open, and a new scent, familiar to him but ten times as potent, flooded the room. In response, your head tipped back on a delirious moan. His head swam, but you were there to save him, bring him back into your gaze.

“D’you smell that, Clyde?” 

You pressed your lips to his temple, panting between words, and he could only nod, eyes closed in bliss because you were everywhere, and he didn’t know what that spicy, caramel scent was, but it made you hotter for him, wetter, and he pleaded with the Lord that it hung in the air just a little bit longer because the slick of your core, still moving, still sucking him in, was driving him into crazed ecstasy. 

Clyde’s large body, having spent years holding everything in, quaked, suddenly flooded with something he couldn’t contain.

“That’s you,” you whispered against his mouth, “And its so fucking good. Look at me, beautiful Omega.”

Somehow, he found the strength to open teary eyes and do as you demanded. A tremor worked its way through his large body as you settled fully down onto his dick. No longer bouncing, you were rocking back and forth with him pushed far inside, and it was fucking heavenly. He pressed his lips into a harsh line, trying to corral what was happening inside of him, but you shook your head and licked at his lips until he parted them, letting them quiver for you, emotion tugging them into a curl. He only ever wanted to make you feel good, feel better; and here you were, splitting him apart, pulling something from him he didn’t even know was there. 

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, you would be gone.

He didn’t even try to stop the tears from spilling, didn’t hide them from you. He was painfully throbbing inside of you, every part of him hurting, pent up and wanting to release all of this tension. His sniffles gave way to panting and whimpering when you kissed and licked all of the tears from his burning cheeks.

“Alpha, I…”

“Shh,” you soothed him, “I know. Trust me.”

Clyde nodded once and dropped his forehead back against yours, as though that was his place. He moaned softly when your hips rocked against him with a bit more weight. As much as he wanted you to bounce on his cock again, the slick back and forth and the deep clench of your cunt was mind-numbingly good. Nudging his head to the side with your nose, you leaned your face into the crook of his neck and teasingly, tormentingly, blew hot breath across the piece of him still unclaimed. 

Clyde’s whole body clenched, his cock stiffening further inside of your molten core, and he dropped his hands from your body to grip painfully tight into the couch cushions, not wanting to tear at your skin. Your fingers slid up the opposite side of his neck to keep him from leaning away, and you grazed your nose along that same spot. He thought he might die, and his hips started thrusting up into you, chasing that feeling licking up into his belly, praying he would find it if he got deep enough into your cunt. He felt you press your closed mouth right over that spot and moan, and he lost his fucking mind, the vibration of it sending him into a frenzy.

“Fuck! Alpha..I’m..Please..I need...Let me, please...I just...Darlin’," he begged, but for what he didn't exactly know.

He gripped your hips hard, the concern that he would hurt you all but gone as he rutted into you, pressing himself so deep he thought he could feel your cervix. You gasped at the feeling, and he held himself there, working you forward and back the way you’d been doing before, grinding the head of his pulsing cock against that spot until you trembled. He cried out in frustration, needing something more to go over, something he couldn’t name or place.

Even he could smell the desperation in the air, and he was about to dissolve into angry tears, but you knew what he needed even if he didn’t. Wrapping your body around him, knees at his hips, arms around his shoulders, pussy impossibly tight, you dipped your face down once more, right into that spine-tingling spot at the crook of his neck. Spreading your wet lips, you licked a fat swath over the length of it before settling right there to kiss, lick, and suck upon his gland.

Clyde saw white. He cried out in surprised fervor and clenched his eyes shut. He was a live wire, every muscle tensing and shaking. He held fast to your hips and ground himself against you, forgetting that you hadn’t been satisfied yet. He was frantically chasing that feeling, so intent upon it that there was nothing else. 

When you nipped and sucked harder upon his neck, moaning into his skin, Clyde was gone. His arms wrapped around you in a vice grip, holding you there, straining as deep into you as he could go. His breath stopped, trapped in his chest as lava filled him up. You clenched your cunt around him once, twice, and he tipped over the edge, groaning into the side of your neck, muffling himself as the orgasm rolled over him, as you milked him for his seed, for his bliss.

You moaned into his neck as he came for you, the smell of it permeating the bubble you existed in together. You held firm, cradling him as he flew, bucking up into you, pushing up over and over as if to make sure you'd carry a part of him forever.

He clutched at your shoulders, spilling anxiety into you, frustration, loneliness, helplessness. He knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault that he’d had this life, but you were here and on him and you felt so wonderful. He cried into your neck, trembling and spent.

“Shit, Alpha, you didn’t…”

You cut him off with a shush, and murmured against his lips how good he was, how beautiful he was, how pleased you were. Pressing your forehead to his, the gesture intimate now, you matched his breathing, drawing him back into calm stillness masterfully. You stroked his face again, and he closed his eyes, not wanting the moment to end.

_ Please don’t leave. _

The words rolled through his brain, and he wanted to beg you to stay, but he couldn’t. He could only hold you as he tried to get himself together, put his emotions back into some semblance of order. He didn’t know what kind of life you had out there, but he was going to have to let you go back to it.

“Will you stay with me tonight, Alpha?” His voice was hopeful but quiet, fearing you’d say no.

“I’ll take you anywhere you need t’go tomorrow, I promise. But will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You nodded against his shoulder once, and he nestled in, snug, satisfied, and loose-limbed. How you should be, rather than him. Clyde huffed out a soft breath as you shifted off of him, the tender drag of your moist pussy sending him into shivers. He helped you stand up, making sure your legs were steady under you, before stuffing his softening dick back down into his pants and zipping up. 

“Hafta pee.”

Your voice sounded sleepy again, and his mouth tilted up at the corners. Hand at the small of your back, he ushered you to the bathroom, ducking into the one right next door to get his disheveled self in order. He popped back out and flew through the room, gathering up odds and ends, shoving your panties into his back pocket, and deciding that he would hunt down all of the buttons tomorrow. He wanted to be ready to scoop you up when you came out.

Five minutes later, Clyde had you wrapped up cozy in a blanket in the cab, candles blown and bar lights out, door locked. He smiled as you leaned into his shoulder, started up the truck, and headed for his house up the road. He still wondered what happened to you that dropped you into his bar. He wondered what had happened to him since you did.

But for tonight, his universe didn’t feel so little.


	2. Clementines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A few days ago, a woman came in here hurt pretty bad. That right? Looked like she got beat up pretty bad?"
> 
> Clyde’s eyes darkened, and his fists tightened into his dark wash jeans, holding himself back. His whole body tensed, and he readied himself to murder this man, thinking that it was him who’d put hands on you, hurt you like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my sweet Clyde. This chapter was fun to write. I'm not sure if there will be more Omega Clyde, but I'm leaving the possibility for it open. Let me know if you'd like to see more. Comments are always welcome.

The drive from the bar to his house was less than 10 minutes, but Clyde spent every second of that drive with his hand tucked around your legs, holding you in close. Driving with his prosthesis wasn’t a great idea, but it was much easier now that he had the newer model, and he couldn't make it that long without touching you.

Jimmy’s words, “She’s out there, Brother,” rang in his ears, and Clyde squeezed you a little harder. You had been out there. Jimmy was right, but Clyde felt uneasy, preemptively lonely, because tomorrow wasn’t too far off. 

You lifted your head from his shoulder when Clyde turned into the driveway, and he leaned over to press a kiss at your crown, lips lingering. He wrapped his arm around your blanketed shoulders and pulled you in tight, already in love with the little world inside his cab. He knew he should get out and take you inside, but the smell of you was everywhere, and he didn’t want to crack the door and let it out.

The shiver that rolled up your body shook him from the daydreams he was having, and he nodded, scolding himself for keeping you out in the cold. Clyde reluctantly popped the door open and scooted you out of the cab from the driver’s side. If he was lucky, some of your beautiful smell would still be in there tomorrow.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, he walked you to his door, unlocked it, and held it open for you to enter first. His brow furrowed when you just stood there, staring at the inside. He squeezed your shoulder gently, trying to be of some comfort to whatever was troubling you.

“Darlin’? Y’ok?”

He watched your face carefully as you swallowed, chewed on the inside of your cheek, and stepped inside. He also didn’t miss the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the sharp inhale of breath, and the flush of your face. Clyde was so satisfied at your reaction to his scent that he practically preened. Swallowing down the proud smile, he closed the door behind him and set the locks.

Clyde reached out for you, unable to stop himself from having his arms around you, and carefully walked you further into the house, supporting you from behind. Making a mental list of everything he had in the house, he walked you through the living room, helping you into his favorite chair.

“How 'bout a bath, Alpha,” he asked gently, sinking to his knees beside you.

Your stomach gurgled angrily, and his eyes dropped down to your blanketed belly. Kicking himself for not thinking of it earlier, he nodded and leaned in to nudge your nose with his, stealing each second he could.

“And a snack,” his eyes softened when you smiled and nodded.

“Stay right here. I’ll come back.”

Clyde tore through his house as fast, and as quiet, as he could. He started the water in the bath, stripped off boots, socks, and his t-shirt, and pulled just about everything he could think of from the cabinets and fridge. He was standing at the kitchen island when you padded into the room on bare feet, and his heart skipped about five beats.

You’d abandoned the blanket he’d wrapped you in and were half-dressed in his clothes, the missing buttons no longer holding his shirt together. You were flushed such a pretty tint of pink, and your hair was loose and wild. Your eyes were glossy but shone so bright. Your spicy scent mingled with his, and he thought it might be the best thing ever. 

You came around to stand by his side, looking over the assorted food he’d plundered for you. Clyde was pleased that you hadn’t laughed or poked fun. He wanted to be so good for you, to make you happy. He had to learn how to do that, though, and hoped you would want to teach him those things. Leaning your head into his arm, you pointed into the heap, and Clyde warmed, your natural disposition to lead taking over, teaching him in simple ways.

“Oranges. And water, please.”

He nodded and wrapped an arm around your middle, squeezing your hip. The heavy, tired sound of your voice poked holes in his calm, and he prayed that he could give you enough, be enough for you that you would feel better. He leaned over to kiss the top of your head again, thinking he might not ever get enough of doing that, and gestured down the hall with his metal hand.

“Bath’s right down there, Darlin’. M'right behind ya.”

His body instantly registered your absence, and he felt heavier the minute you stepped away. Exhaling a shaky breath, Clyde plucked up two oranges, tucking one into the crook of his elbow, and two bottles of water from the fridge. When he turned into the bathroom, he couldn’t help but smile as you were already sunk down into the hot water, your toes bobbing up at the surface and your head leaned back against the porcelain.

His house never felt so complete. He hadn't noticed that it felt empty before, but he knew it would tomorrow.

“Bathtub’s why I bought this house,” he said softly. “Not very many bathtubs fit a giant like me.”

You smiled up at him, and Clyde’s insides swelled, happy and proud. Before he could second guess it, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, capturing your smile on a kiss and humming at the taste of you. 

He sat down on the floor and pressed his back against the tub, wanting you to feel that he was here but also that you had whatever privacy you might want. 

Keeping his back to you kept him from ogling you so much, too, because the quick look he’d had so far set his blood to boiling and his dick to aching.

Clyde offered one of the waters to you, watching the steam roll off your hot fingers as they wrapped around the cold bottle. He imagined those hot fingers on his body and squirmed. He flushed but didn’t say anything, not wanting to break the moment. Turning a bit, he leaned his shoulder into the bathtub, watched you soak contentedly, and fed you orange slices.

He thought that this moment was perfect, and he prayed that it would last forever. 

When a pained look crossed your face, Clyde shifted onto his knees and helped you sit up. Pushing the empty bottles and orange peels off to the side, he pulled a towel down from the cabinet. He wanted to ask you what was wrong, what could he do, but you’d already dodged his question about what happened to you earlier tonight. 

“C’mon, Darlin’. Let’s get some rest.”

Dried and dressed in one of his shirts, Clyde had you tucked up in his bed, looking soft and happy, sexy as all sin. He was bent over you pressing kiss after kiss to your cheeks, forehead, lips because he wanted to be a gentleman, but he didn’t actually want to leave you here alone. Every part of his body burned to wrap himself around you and keep you warm, happy, and safe.

“Sweet dreams, Alpha,” he whispered into your hair and turned to go.

“Hey...” your voice was soft and sleepy, and you tugged on his thumb, his fingers being the very last thing to break contact. “...c’mere.”

You scooted back towards the wall and opened the covers for him, patting the bed. Clyde swallowed thickly but nodded, grateful and nervous at the same time. He reached over to flip off the light and tugged apart the curtains, letting in the starry night sky to light the room. 

He peeled off his jeans, unhooked his arm, and sunk down into the bed, turning onto his side and reaching for you. You burrowed into his chest, inhaling him good and deep, and Clyde bit down a groan. He tucked his arms in tight around you and held you, listening to your breathing deepen.

This was right where he belonged.

He didn’t want to fall asleep because tomorrow meant that this dream would be over, and he wanted to stay here as long as he could. It felt so good, though, to have you here in his arms, that he couldn’t fight it off. He drifted down into sleep enveloped by your scent, pressed up against your body, and feeling like he did belong to you.

Sunlight poked in through the gauzy curtains, and Clyde woke to the smell of mountain air dancing in through the open window. He drew in a tremulous breath because half of him expected you to be here, and half of him expected you to be already gone. He lay in silence for a long time, listening for you in the bathroom, in the kitchen, anywhere.

But his house was stone silent.

The bubble had burst, and you had gone. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye or take you home. Curling in on himself, Clyde buried his face into the pillow you’d slept on, inhaling as much of your lingering scent as he could. The rational part of him knew he was only ever going to get the one night, but he couldn’t stop his heart from breaking, nor the tears that fell into the blue sheets.

Three days passed in a fog. He had no way to contact you as you hadn't left a note or a number. He didn't know anything about you apart from your name. And your smell, his heart offered. The way your kisses tasted. But he had no way to find you, his brain kicked up.

Clyde had asked Jimmy to cover at the bar because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house. He could still smell you there, and he wanted to hang onto that as long as he possibly could. When he couldn’t feel you in the house anymore, he sat in his truck, parked up at the lookout for hours and wrapped in the idea of you, the little bit of you he still had.

On the fourth day, Clyde dragged himself into the bar to work. Jimmy had stayed close by, but it was clear Clyde didn’t want to talk to anybody. So, Jimmy had manned the bar, and Clyde stayed in the office doing bookwork and trying to keep his mind busy.

“Clyde?”

Jimmy had poked his head through the office door, and Clyde looked up at his brother. Clyde was grateful for everything Jimmy had done these last few days, but looking at him right now only made Clyde’s heart hurt worse. Jimmy still had Sylvia. Clyde didn’t have anybody.

“Think y’should come out here, Brother. Someone’s askin’ for ya.”

“Not tonight, Jim. Just...can’t.” Clyde waved his hand, shooing his brother away, and turned back to his file cabinet.

“Clyde,” Jimmy’s voice was insistent, serious. "Brother, please. Come talk to this man.”

The tone of Jimmy’s voice drew Clyde’s gaze, and he sighed heavily, pushing up to his feet and following his brother. Jimmy gestured to a man standing by the end of the bar. Clyde looked him over, taking in his short-cropped hair, bib overalls, and muscular build. Clyde had never seen this man before, he was sure.

“Clyde Logan?”

“Yeah? I'm Clyde. What cn’I do for ya?”

The man reached out to shake his hand; and being a gentleman, Clyde obliged, using the moment to take stock of the guy. He was about as tall as Jimmy, broad shoulders, bright blue eyes. Clyde couldn’t tell, though, where this was going or how this man had gotten his name, which was unsettling. 

“A few days ago, a woman came in here hurt pretty bad. That right? Looked like she got beat up pretty bad?"

Clyde’s eyes darkened, and his fists tightened into his dark wash jeans, holding himself back. His whole body tensed, and he readied himself to murder this man, thinking that it was him who’d put hands on you, hurt you like that. 

The readiness to commit violence must have played across his features because the man lifted his hands, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“Shit, man. It ain’t like that. I’m…”

Clyde all but growled the next words out. His jaw was impossibly tight, and his voice was lower and more deadly than Jimmy had ever heard it.

“Tell me how it is, then.”

“Fuck. M’name’s Lee. I'm her… She's our...Dammit! She’s my sister.”

Clyde blinked, fire burning through his veins from his assumption that this man had laid hands on you, and shook his head a little bit. He blew out a quaking breath, focusing his gaze on Jimmy, who was nodding to him, urging him to follow that calm track.

“M’sorry, man. Should’ve led with that. She was picked up by the AFM. You heard of 'em?”

Clyde’s eyes flew open wide, and he leaned into the bar, pressing his hands against the slick wood top and dropping his head so his dark waves hid his face. He was desperately trying not to lose himself to images of you being tortured by those assholes, but he wasn't winning the fight. 

Jimmy looked back and forth between Clyde and Lee, not understanding what was happening. Why would he? He had no reason to ever know.

“Who’s AFM?” Jimmy asked, trying to catch up to the conversation.

Clyde couldn’t answer. He was trembling with rage and anguish. What had they done to you? And you’d been the strong one to take such good care of him that night, holding him while he cried and making him feel so damn good. 

“Fucking cult, s’what they are,” Lee answered. 

“They believe only men should be alphas," Lee continued, "and they’ve spent years trying to kill off alpha females. We’ve worked hard to make sure our women were safe from those bastards; but somehow, they figured out who and what she is and snatched her from the goddamn parking lot at her job.”

“All-Father Ministries,” Clyde nearly spat out the words and looked up at Jimmy. “They do experiments on alpha women.”

“S’right,” Lee said, knocking his knuckles on the bar nervously, “S’why I’m here. She’s in a bad way, Clyde, and the only thing she would tell us is that you helped her when they dumped her.”

Clyde’s head swiveled so fast he had to fight dizziness. He shot up to his full height and stepped closer to the new guy, your brother. Lee shrank away slightly, but Clyde didn’t care in the slightest. He knew he was a big guy. He’d used it to his favor before; and if it meant getting to you, he would damn sure intimidate the information out of this guy, brother or not. 

Fighting to keep from putting his hands on Lee, Clyde flexed his fingers and willed his voice into an even tone.

“Y'know where she is?” Clyde’s jaw ticked and eyes twitched with strain.

“Yeah, man, but she won’t let any of us come near. She’s at our old cabin on the mountain, over the state line. I came here to see if you’d go check on her, thinkin’ maybe she’d let you get close since you helped her before.”

Clyde was already moving, he reached behind the bar for his wallet, phone, and truck keys. His boots were hard and heavy on the wooden floor, but he was too far gone to care. You were out there, and you needed his help, needed _him_.

“Jimmy, hold down the bar and ask Mellie how many muskers'r on the road this time a’day. Lee, text me the address.”

Clyde was tearing down the road, 95 in a 70, and never more grateful for mountain roads with lazy cops. Along with the address, Lee texted step-by-step directions on how to get to where you were. Mellie had texted that the roads should be quiet all afternoon, and Jimmy told him to take as much time as he needed; he’d hold down the bar.

Gripping his phone so tight he thought he might break it, Clyde took the last turn Lee said he would need. On this road, it was a straight shot up to the top of the mountain and on the left. Turning into a stop, he threw the car in park, yanked the keys from the ignition, and barreled out, kicking the door shut.

He took the porch steps two at a time and pounded on the door. There weren’t any lights on that he could tell, and none of the windows were open. If you were here, you’d sealed yourself in good and tight, and that worried him. What were you hoping nobody would know?

“Alpha! Darlin’? Please. Open the door.”

Silence. Nobody was stirring inside. He believed Lee when he said you were here, though. Your brother was genuinely scared for you.

Clyde ducked down to look in the living room windows and skirted the porch that wrapped around the house. When he got to the back, he could see you through the double doors, and he choked back a pained yelp.

You were just sitting there on the floor in the middle of the empty dining room, staring straight ahead and surrounded by empty water bottles. He leaned in and could see that your hair and shirt were damp, and he knew you must be burning up. 

He cursed those AFM fuckers 50 ways from Sunday for whatever it was they did to you and tapped on the window, hoping to draw your attention.

“Alpha? Honey, it’s Clyde.”

You blinked a few times before turning your head to look in the direction of his gentle raps.

“Go ‘way, Clyde.” 

Your voice was gruff and scratchy, and he ignored the way those words made him feel. He knew you were trying to keep everybody safe, but he didn’t know what you were keeping him safe from. It was plain to see you had been struggling, and that fact set him to reeling. 

He'd made it his job that night to keep you well and safe, and he’d failed. Failed from the jump.

“No chance, Darlin’. C’mon n’ let me in.”

He crouched down and leaned against the double doors, ready to show you that he would sit here as long as you needed him to. But something happened, and you grimaced, your face twisting up painfully. You curled in on yourself and cried out, flattening your palms on the hardwood floor.

There was no more waiting. Clyde shot into action.

He ran back around to the front of the house and tore the screen door open with such force the hinges busted loose and it clattered away. He kicked at the front door, planting his large, heavy boot right at the doorknob and lock. It took two kicks, but he busted the door away and stomped into the house.

**“STOP.”**

Five steps in, he halted dead in his tracks, physically unable to carry himself forward. Your Alpha voice, the echo in his bones, dropped him to his knees. He hit the hard wood with a thud and snapped his jaw shut to keep from cursing. He squeezed both hands into fists and looked at you, helpless and overwhelmed at the scent of you pouring out of the house.

It was rich, whiskey spice, and so much more potent than it had been the night you met. It made his eyes water and his head swim. He had been drawn to it before, but he would die to taste you now, to drown in the smell of you.

He stared, brow knit tight, jaw grinding. You were running a fever, sweat rolling down your flushing skin, and you were doubled over with what looked to be cramps. He whimpered, every bit of him wanting to reach for you, and his guts twisted when the strangled sound you made sounded like ragged desire. 

The need in your voice shot his body into overdrive, and his clothes felt too tight suddenly. The muscles in his arms, back, and abdomen tensed. His dick swelled painfully hard, and his mouth watered. He could taste you on the air, your sweat, your arousal, your need. Feeling like he was kicked in the chest, it finally clicked for him.

Heat. You were in heat.

“Alpha, please…” he knew his voice betrayed him, but he didn’t care, “please let me hold you, let me help.”

You pushed against the floor and scooted yourself further away from him, and he could do nothing but watch you go, his heart cracking. 

You shook your head and pressed your hands into your eyes, tense and anxious. As you moved, he realized that you were still wearing his shirt. You’d cut the neck out to give yourself more room for air, but he recognized the blue Bob Segar he’d wrapped you to sleep in and his guts twisted a little bit more.

“Go home, Clyde."

His heart lurched, but this wasn’t the same sort of command as before. He felt no compulsion to get up and walk out. Part of you didn’t want him to leave, and he clung to that hope with everything he had.

“It isn’t real, and I don’t wanna do somethin’ you’ll regret.” 

Your voice shook as you struggled to keep yourself together, to not lose control on him, at him. Clyde watched it happen on your face and gaped at you, amazed at your self control and angry at it. He was here, and he was yours, would be yours, if you would just open your eyes.

“Alpha, it’s been four days,” he said softly, as though he hadn’t spent a lifetime without you before all this. 

“Have you been here alone all this time? Like this?”

“It’s not real. They drugged me, pumped me full'a suppressants and took all sorts of blood. They gave me this big cocktail of shit and said they’d be watchin’ for what happened.”

You were whispering; and when you finally lifted your red-rimmed eyes to look at him, Clyde’s heart stopped. Your beautiful face, your perfect face, was awash in pain, in need, and in the astounding struggle you were in to keep yourself in check. 

He knew that he was going to hunt down every single AFM sympathizer he could find and beat the holy tar out of all of them.

“I had to leave your house that night because I could feel it happening, this fucked up heat they put me in, and I didn’t wanna hurt you or force you or mark you. It ain’t right, and I won't chase off any chance you have at happiness because I can’t control what they did to me.”

You were sobbing now, hands pressed into your eyes again, and he felt like an impotent fool, kneeling across the room from you and unable to move even an inch closer. Matching your gesture, he pushed the heel of his good hand into his eye.

“Dammit, Alpha, I’m **here**!”

He nearly shouted it, louder than he intended, but he did get your attention. You lifted your head with a snarl, the leader in you, the alpha, angry at the loud challenge. Your hot gaze, charged with emotion, trained on his face, and his breath caught, thinking maybe that hadn’t been the best plan.

“Darlin’, I’m real. I’m real, and I’m right here.”

He felt the pressure against his body release, your will to keep him away cracking apart, and he sagged for all of one second before he crept in on two long slides of the knee. Stretching his long arm out, he wrapped flesh fingers around your ankle. 

He crawled forward at the same time he pulled you across the hardwood floor and under him. He growled, lusty, hungry, irritated, as the scent of you fully washed over him, finally having you in his arms and flooded with relief.

“Fuck, woman.” 

He wrapped his arm around your middle and lifted your chest into his, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He wanted to press his body against yours, pin you to the floor right here and satisfy every single one of your needs, but you were trying so hard to control yourself, and he didn’t want to make it worse. 

It was clear you were suffering, but he couldn’t tell which was worse, your body or your heart.

“M’here. M’yours. Y'hear me?"

His body was designed to please you, to satisfy you. Your body was designed to take him, claim him, push him to give you everything, just like he wanted to do now. It rattled him to think that maybe it wasn't real, that maybe you didn't really want him here but couldn't resist.

Pressing his lips into a hard line, he decided it didn't matter right this minute, and he would sort it out later, when you weren't in such pain. 

“O-omega,” you stuttered, every part of you shaking uncontrollably at his nearness, “D-don’t want to ma-mark you. N-n-not like this.”

“Sshh,” he brushed his lips against your chin, murmuring, “Next time, then.”

He could feel the tension start to leave your body, the war you were having inside seeming to lessen just a little bit. Easing his weight down onto you, Clyde groaned as you undulated beneath him, settling his hips right into the cradle of your body. You hummed and arched up harder into his chest, and he nipped at your chin.

“That’s it,” he crooned, licking up a bead of sweat. “That’s it, Alpha. Come back to me.”

You drew in a ragged breath, scratching at the floor where you’d pressed your palms. You couldn’t be still under him, your need pushing you to move and buck and clutch, but you were calming, shaking less than you were before. Clyde rubbed his lips along your jaw when your legs drew up, thighs squeezing his ribs. He reached for one of your hands and brought it to his chest, holding it there until your fingers curled in.

Clyde’s brain didn’t know what to do, but his body did. He tucked one large hand around your hip and held you in place so he could rock against you, dragging his jeans against your soft thighs and swollen pussy until you groaned. 

Slanting his mouth over yours, he licked at your lips, tongue, teeth. He all but sucked down your saliva, losing himself to the taste of you.

On a particularly deep thrust, you slid one hand up into his dark hair, scratching along his scalp, and he moaned into your neck when you twisted your fingers and tugged.

"Omega," you huffed, impatient with need.

Pushing up onto his knees, Clyde tore apart his belt and jeans, pushing away the fabric just enough to free his aching dick. He squeezed another drop of arousal from the tip and rubbed it in with a shudder. Dropping back over you, he planted his metal hand by your head and reached to hook a finger in your soaked panties and slide them to one side.

“Y’been ready for me for days, haven’t you Alpha? Slick and hot.”

You practically purred at his voice, his words, and you hooked one leg around his hip, using your ankle at his thigh to draw him down against your body. Clyde tucked his flesh hand under your opposite knee and drew it up higher, stretching you open wide and relishing in the sound of your gasp and growl.

Clyde rocked his hips, pushing the swollen head of his cock through your slippery, puffy lips to nudge at your clit. He held his breath when your pelvis tipped up and you directed him into place with your calf at his ass. The end of his dick caught on that hot ridge, and he sunk in deliberately slow, groaning obscenely as your cunt stretched to accommodate him.

“Jesus fuck Clyde,” you whined, head tipped back far, “so fucking good.”

His body flooded with your praise, and he sunk down to the hilt, holding himself against you and laying kisses over your shoulder and neck. Your pussy was blazing fire and better than anything he’d ever felt, the heat-driven fever burning your core hotter than the sun. He withdrew nearly entirely just to feel your scorching wet cunt suck him back in slowly.

Acclimated to his size, your body shifted to lead, using the leverage you had at his hip to push his body in the way you wanted. You squeezed his hip and ass, pushing against him to quicken his pace and deepen the angle of his hips. 

You lifted your pelvis for every thrust, and he floated, weightless, as you showed him what you wanted, how you wanted him to fuck you. You moaned and purred, arched and undulated, and Clyde panted against you, schooling himself to last, to not explode too soon.

“Omega,” your voice was breathless, wanton. “More.”

On a growl, Clyde pressed down into your hip again, pinning you there against the floor. He would always defer to you, to what you wanted, but he had been dying to let go and fuck you hard and fast, to hear his name on your lips.

Given the freedom to do just that, he dropped to his elbow, pressed his forehead to yours, and drove into you, harsh and hungry. His hips pistoned forward until every crash of your bodies was a sticky squish reverberating against the floor.

You writhed and yelped at every stab of his dick, and Clyde swelled impossibly harder to see you so pleased by him. You were flushed and beautiful, and you were moaning his name. The delirious clutch of your pussy around him was too good to name, and he eagerly bottomed out on every push, whimpering and begging.

“C’mon Alpha. Cum on my cock. Make it yours.”

You arched up into him, breasts heaving against his chest, and it deepened the tilt of your hips. Clyde growled, and you wailed at the deep slide of his throbbing cock. You lifted his shirt out of the way and pushed your hand between your legs, and Clyde cursed, knowing you were rubbing your clit but not being able to see it.

Your breath hitched, and you held it. Your body stilled nearly completely, the only thing still working was your fingers, rubbing hard against your clit. You were nearly there, and Clyde shook, consumed by the need to make you scream his name.

“Fuck, that’s it. Please cum for me, Alpha. Need it so bad.”

Your free fingers fisted his shirt, and you nodded as he spoke, relaying that you needed more of that, more of his voice. You were burning up and gushing for him, and Clyde imagined how every drop would taste because the smell of you, your arousal, your slick on the air was too good. 

“Y’feel so fucking good, Darlin’. Need you to cum so I can...fuck!”

Your cunt clutched at his dick, desperately tight, and you howled out his name right before descending into a frenzy of shouts and shrieks. Your body spasmed, loosening from head to toe, and rewarded him with a new surge of molten slick and a new scent on the air - your orgasm. 

Clyde barked out a string of curses and dropped his face into the crook of your neck, holding you tight and continuing to plow through the exquisite pulse and clench of your pussy.

“Alpha please,” he whimpered against your neck, pressing the desire and despair against your skin. “Say it, please.”

He wasn’t ashamed to beg. You were everything he needed in this moment, and he would never hold it back from you. He would give you, his Alpha, anything and everything, including whatever shame he maybe should have felt to be begging you for something so simple as a kind word.

You purred against him and squeezed your thighs tight at his ribs, hugging him to your body. You slid both arms around his broad shoulders, one curling up into his damp hair to hold his face right there, right against your pulse. He whined when you tightened your cunt to wrap around him just the way everything else was.

“You’re so good, Omega,” your voice was sex-hoarse and raspy, “D’you want to cum for me?”

He nodded against your neck, but he couldn’t tell if it was an answer, an agreement, or just outright gratitude. He wanted to be good for you. His whole body ached to be good for you. And to hear you say it? He could do nothing but tremble and comply. 

Clyde’s hips punched forward, hoping to get far enough inside you that you’d never forget him until, finally, he pushed in as far as he could go, holding himself buried deep into your cunt. 

He was pretending you had called him yours, imagining what it would sound like on your lips, while he rutted against you and that deep spot that made him see stars the last time.

“My beautiful, hungry Omega,” you were breathless again, your words locking into his heart, “Cum for me. Fill your Alpha up.”

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he was gone. He moaned and sobbed into your arms, hips stuttering, cock pushing hard into your pussy to deliver his obedience deep inside of you. He’d never had an orgasm like this, long and quaking. It was blissful and never-ending and white hot.

You arched up again and moaned low at his surrender, your chest vibrating against his, hugging him close and snug against your body. Clyde dissolved into trembling. He collapsed and clung to you, fingers digging in, face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Would it always be like this, he wondered. Would you break him apart every time?

Sniffling, Clyde shifted in your embrace, his rational brain kicking in. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and captured a deeper, selfish taste of you at your lips. Holding your leg gently, he rocked his hips back and withdrew from the inviting warmth of your body. He immediately regretted it and swallowed a whimper.

“Gonna get the door,” he nudged your nose with his. “If someone’s after you, it won’t do to have it busted open.”

You nodded up at him, quiet but calmer than before. He knew there wasn’t much time before the heat would begin to rise up in your body again, and he wanted to know you were safe before that happened. Lifting off of you, he stuffed his still-leaking dick back down into his pants and stood to investigate the fallout of his rough entrance.

“Are you gonna leave?” 

Your voice was little, uncertain, and he turned to look back at you. You’d sat up cross-legged, and you were looking up at him with something he couldn’t quite peg playing at your face. He stepped back over to you and crouched down, reaching out to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lip.

“No chance, Darlin’. 'Lessen you tell me t'go.”

You shook your head, and Clyde thought he might melt into a puddle right there on the floor. He leaned in and plundered a kiss, then another, and another until you laughed and pushed at his shoulders. 

“I do think we should talk, though,” you said, looking up at him. “There’s things we should prob’ly know about each other.

Clyde nodded agreement and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb skimmed your jaw line again, and you hummed appreciation at the track of his touch.

“Door first,” he said, matter-of-factly, pecked a kiss into your cheek, and hopped up to see to the damage he’d done.

Twenty minutes later, Clyde had you pressed into the shower tiles, arms tight around your middle, kissing you until he couldn’t breathe. 

He hadn’t been able to fix the doorknob, and you’d started heating back up quicker than he had planned for. He’d go out to the hardware store tomorrow; but for now, he’d pushed a bookshelf in front of it to keep anyone from coming through.

If living with Jimmy ever taught him anything, it was to never waste time, which is why he’d scooped you into a hot shower and was feeding you oranges in between kisses. Multitasking, as it were.

He liked to think that this might be a thing between the two of you now -- oranges and bath time. He checked himself, though, that it was too early to be hoping for intimate things like that.

He was also talking to you just like you wanted, in the guise of talking to you just like you liked.

“You got someone waitin’ on you, Alpha? Or is this sweet pussy just for me?”

He licked at your clementine-flavored lips, rubbing his fingers between your swollen labia until you gasped and stood on your toes. He thought you were perfect, your skin flushing red from both the shower and your heat, your eyelashes clumping together with fat drops of water. Your tongue poked out to lick your lips, and he bent to touch it with his.

“Shit, Clyde.” 

You rubbed your breasts against his chest, and he hummed in delight, wrapping his hand down around your ass to squeeze and slap, encouraged by the outright moan you rewarded him with. He rubbed hot water into the hand print blooming on your skin.

“No, nobody else,” you shook your head, eyes training on his lips. “You? Tell me someone already laid claim to you so I can go kill her.”

Dipping his head to kiss you, Clyde purred against your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and slowly drawing out more of your moans. You nipped at his lower lip, and he almost forgot what he was doing, pressing you further into the wall on a hungry groan. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead into yours and took a second to clear his thoughts.

“Don’t need to be killin’ anyone, Darlin’. S’just you.”

He lifted another bit of orange to your mouth and dropped his to the bend of your neck, humming against the gland there the way you’d taught him the other day and absolutely delighting in the sinful sound you made and the way you curled your leg around his hip. He turned you slightly so that the hot water rushed down over your shoulder and across your tight breast, following with his red fingertips to tug and pinch the swollen nipple.

“I’m...Fuck, Clyde.”

He’d abandoned your breast, pushed a long finger inside of you, and was lazily stroking, pulling more hot slick from your core.

“I’m the Alpha, Clyde,” you murmured against his shoulder, “for my family.”

Clyde leaned back a bit to look at you, sliding his finger from your pussy and feeding it to you, loving the eager way you tasted yourself. 

He was infused with a whole new sense of pride and astonishment. The war you’d been fighting with yourself wasn’t just about your heat. You were trying to keep your whole family safe. From what had been done to you and the unknown consequences of it. From yourself.

“Darlin’ is that why you wouldn’t let them come here? To help you?”

Your lips wobbled, emotion playing across your face, and you nodded. He wiped tears as they fell on your rosy cheeks and kissed at the corners of your eyes. He pushed the last orange bite into your mouth in a bid to keep you from crying and dipped his face to your ear.

“M’so proud of you, Alpha,” he murmured, warm breath tickling.. “You’re so good. They’re so lucky to have you. M’so lucky to be here with you.”

You were fidgeting in his embrace now, and he knew your body was becoming more insistent, the hormones rising back up to demand satisfaction. He crooned into your jaw that he was here, he would take care of you and make you feel so good. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and you stood onto your toes.

“Omega,” you chuffed it out, “Hurry.”

You spun to face the wall, pressing your palms against the shower tiles, and the sounds that rumbled in his chest surprised even him. He clapped his hand against your ass again and pulled against your hip until it was perched out just right for him. Reaching down, he pushed one of your legs up so he could slide in easily. Your head fell back on a curse when he wedged the head of his cock inside you.

“This what y’need, Alpha?”

He let your leg drop back down to bear your weight and thrust forward hard, lodging the full length of his dick into your shuddering pussy and holding you there. Clyde growled against your shoulder and wrapped his fingers tight around your hip, using the leverage to hammer into you fast and rough.

Using the shower wall to your advantage, you pushed back against him and moaned, loud and debauched. You met each of his thrusts with a bounce of your ass, pushing him to fuck you harder, faster. 

Clyde’s ego swelled and swelled with each grunt, moan, and shout. He was the one making you feel that way. He was the one fucking you just the way you wanted.

“Omega, fuck!”

Your shout cut through his preening, and he knew he’d found a good angle when you shook, feeling the ripple in your pussy. He reached up and settled his large palm over your breast, squeezing, tugging, and using it to hold you steady so his hips could punch forward, pounding hard.

“Right there, Darlin’? That a good spot?”

Your cunt seized, convulsing tight around his throbbing dick, and Clyde moaned, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. The water was starting to run cold, and he slapped the shower head away to let it rain against the wall. One of your hands disappeared, and he bit at your shoulder when he felt your body jerk from the circles you were rubbing into your clit.

Your whole body tensed, tightened, and you held your breath. He knew now that this was your sign; you were almost there. He slid his hand up around your throat and tipped your head back, leaning forward to lick at your sweaty skin. He wanted to say any number of sinful, shameless things. He wanted to pound you into an incoherent mess, but he got caught up in the beautiful sight of you wholly wrapped up in euphoria.

He was riveted, absolutely captured by the pleasure on your face. At first, your forehead was pinched tight, and he could match that face with the tight contracture of your cunt. And when the orgasm broke over you, your face loosened, mouth relaxing open on a gasp, the very corners of your lips turned upwards in satisfaction. 

Your pussy flooded as you came, and he reveled in it, his hips slowing to just wallow in the feel of your hot slick. When your body was again loose and pliant, he wrapped both arms around you and pulled you back into his chest, burying his face into your wet hair and nudging your earlobe with his nose.

The only thing that mattered to him in this moment was that you were satisfied. He was still buried in your unbelievable cunt, and he was still achingly hard, but it didn’t matter. The look on your face, the relaxed feel of your body was enough. He was wholly satisfied, basking in your bliss.

You pressed your lips against his forearm, just above the amputation, and Clyde thought his heart might burst. You’d never shown any aversion to his injury. It was just a part of him, and you'd never so much as mentioned it or asked about it. You made him feel that it was just a regular part of him. 

“Darlin’, you’re gonna be the end'a me,” he crooned into your temple.

“Nah,” you said, tipping your head back, “Alpha means beginning.”

He chuckled and dropped his head to nibble at your neck, delighting in the laughter that bubbled up out of your chest. He hugged you a bit tighter and nodded against your jaw.

“M'alright with that, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't post my work to any other site without my express permission.


	3. You Belong To Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if they don’t like me?”
> 
> Clyde hunched over and chewed his full lower lip, looking out the windshield at the big, blue house. He rubbed his hands nervously against his pants, already feeling his good palm sweat and his knuckles feel like they needed cracking.
> 
> “Clyde, y’rescued me from all manner of trouble. Twice.” You chuckled softly, drawing his gaze. “They’re gonna love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clyde meets the family. I had fun writing this chapter and thinking about my Mamaw. I miss her so much, and this helped me feel like I had a piece of her back. I hope you enjoy. :)

Dawn broke over the mountaintop and poured in through the large, open windows, interrupting the nighttime chill and sliding over Clyde like a weightless blanket. Dark lashes fluttered against freckled cheeks, and he drew in a long, satisfied morning breath.

The sunlight was balmy, pleasant, and it spread across his shoulders and down his arms. It darted over his chest and belly and pooled at the juncture of his thighs, sliding and circling there until he peeked out from under heavy eyelids.

His breath halted at the sight of you, on your knees between his legs, face turned down into his groin, coaxing his morning erection into life ahead of schedule with your soft lips and warm tongue.

He’d spent the last three days with you in this little cabin, and it was as close to heaven as he could have ever dreamed. Each time your temperature started to rise, he was there to slide into you and calm your intense cravings.

Sometimes, it was hard and rough. He pinned you to the wall, the floor, the kitchen counter and fucked you until you were hoarse from shouting. Sometimes, it was soft and sweet. He curled around you and plied your neck with soothing kisses as you sighed and gasped.

Twice, you’d ridden him, and he’d thought he was going to die. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flushed and panting, and you taking exactly what you wanted from him made his bones sing.

It was bliss and magic and everything he’d ever hoped for.

This was the first time, though, that you’d had your mouth on his dick, and he was too afraid to exhale just in case it would change your mind.

The swirl of your tongue, the way you stuffed all of his stiffening cock into your mouth, was too good, though, and he whimpered, tipping his head back and closing his eyes against the suddenly too-bright sun. He curled and flexed his fingers and toes, wanting to reach for you but not wanting you to stop.

“Alpha, I…” His throat bobbed, and he swallowed the stickiness in his mouth. “You don’t have to…"

He sucked in a shuddering, noisy breath when you licked a line from the base to the swollen, leaking head and collected the salty drop by dipping your tongue into the tender slit.

You pressed your velvet lips into his inner thigh, nipping an easy bite, and lazily stroked and licked and kissed him until he thought he was going to explode just from your hot breath.

When he was fully hard, straining and throbbing and slick, you glanced up and winked, your cute nose wrinkling at him playfully. On a growl, he watched as you slid nearly every inch of his pulsing, aching length into your mouth. He brushed your hair away so he could better watch you, drunk on the pretty picture you made.

Humming delightedly, you popped his dick from your mouth with an obscene slurp that made his thighs twitch. His pupils blew wide open with wanting, and his breathing quickened.

He knew you saw the hungry flash in his eyes, and his mouth watered when you looked at him like you’d caught him red-handed in the cookie jar, a devilish grin dancing across your full lips.

“Like that sound, Omega?”

You purred, plunging the entire length of his cock into your mouth. He choked, shoulders lifting off of the bed entirely at the feeling of his sensitive head nudging the back of your throat. Tightening your pursed lips, you sucked hard on the recoil and let him burst free with another echoing, sloppy pop.

“Yes,” Clyde whispered, his cheeks burning pink.

Propped onto his elbows, he couldn’t look away. Watching his dick disappear into your sexy, sinful mouth was everything, and he wanted to thread his flesh fingers into your hair and feel your head bob under his palm.

Letting his lusty eyes wander your body, Clyde lost himself to your every detail. 

Your hips were perfect for his hands, alluring, shapely handles he always wanted to hold and caress. Your ass was pushed up enticingly, and he wanted to leave hand prints on your skin, to watch it bounce. Your back bowed, long and elegant, and he licked his lips, remembering trailing his tongue up your spine.

Each erotic thought attached to a suckle or curl of your tongue, and he swelled even harder, his ego following soon behind at the pleased sound you made around him.

The smell of you was everywhere, hanging so thick in the air he thought he could feel it on his skin. It mingled with his to make this musky, sweet, rich aroma that he wanted to carry in his lungs for the rest of his life.

You wrapped strong fingers around his dick, squeezing tight, and he moaned loud, dropping back onto the bed and rocking up into you. Your pace was quick now, deliberate, and you matched your tight grip up and down with your expert lips and tongue. 

He couldn’t help it; his hand twisted into your hair, and his eager hips lifted to meet your mouth.

“Darlin’, you smell so good,” he whined, toes curling, “look so damn pretty like that. Please don’t...don’t stop.”

Your back strokes were leaving his cock completely, the hot suction of your mouth chased off and back on again by wet, sliding, sticky fingers and punctuated by sloppy, vulgar kisses. Clyde was a moaning, squirming mess, pushing at your head to get you back down onto his dick as quick as he could each time, thrusting up to find that wicked heat.

“Fuck..God..yes..right th--” his pleas tumbled out unchecked, every sound crafting this song he’d only play for you.

You moaned at his voice, the vibration circling his dick sending a delicious shiver up his spine. Clyde was overwhelmed and writhing, clutching at you with tingling, trembling digits. He bucked and arched, growled and whimpered. His abdomen quaked, and his thighs, calves, and glutes flexed painfully tight.

“Alpha, I’m...gonna…”

A greedy, pleased sound escaped your throat the second before you gulped down as much of him as you could, and Clyde lost all control. Palming the back of your head, he held you in place and fucked his last few strokes deep into your throat. He cursed and threw his head back on as loud a groan as he could ever remember making and emptied his dick into your neck, pushing through the tremors.

Your tongue and throat worked in exquisite harmony, the muscles contracting to swallow him down, and he was suddenly frenzied to taste you, to taste both of you together. Jolting upright, he cupped your cheek, guided your mouth to his, and pushed past your lips with his insistent tongue.

Clyde sighed into your kiss, sated and liquid. Cinching his arm about your torso, he tugged you forward to straddle his wide hips and settle against his chest. His kisses were deep, searching. He nipped and sucked at your tongue, keeping you in a suspended state of breathless. 

Trailing down from your swollen mouth, he nuzzled and nibbled at the line of your jaw, clutching at your hip desperately, trying to will his body into a second wave of arousal so he could feel the delirious clench of your pussy and hear his name on your lips.

“Will you let me,” he murmured against your neck, trailing off and sucking a light spot into the skin.

“Hush. Don't worry about me.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Y’been looking after me for days. This was just for you.”

He leaned back to look at you, searching your face and settling on nudging your nose with his. Your arousal was clear; he could smell it, taste it at the roof of his mouth, feel the wet of it against his body, but he nodded just the same, touched that you would want him to feel good without anything in return.

He remembered back to that first night and the way you’d cracked him open to the core without a worry to you not being lit up and satisfied the way he had been. It wasn’t just that you were appeased after three days of heat. It was who you were, he thought.

You would always try to take care of folks, your family, first. Just like Jimmy. Just like an Alpha ought to do. Every single part of him wanted to be on that list. He wanted you to want to take care of him, too.

Just like he was dying to take care of you.

Clyde's glassy eyes twisted shut, and he clung to your back tightly. He tried to hide the sniffle in your shoulder, but you reached up to stroke his hair, nice and gentle, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so cared for. Your patient touches dove down into his soul, and he whispered his next words, hanging onto this memory-in-the-making for dear life.

“Darlin’, will you,” he hesitated but looked up at your beautiful face. He never wanted to hide anything from you, least of all his feelings.

“Will you say somethin’ nice to me?”

You had just done a nice thing, the best thing, for him, but he needed your praise right now. He needed to hear that dulcet tone, laced with Alpha, more than he needed air, water, shelter. He ached to hear the approval, the pleasure in your voice.

“Clyde Logan,” you began, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You are,” a long, drawn-out pause, “an absolute PAIN in my ass, bargin' in here and breakin' down my door.”

He chuckled and burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, knowing him asking you for something like that was silly. He didn’t see the smile his low laugh produced, but you pulled him from his hiding spot and peppered kisses all over his cheeks, forehead, jaw, nose.

“You -kiss- are -kiss- too -kiss- beautiful -kiss- to -kiss- hide. -kiss-” 

Threading your fingers into the charcoal curls at his neck, you tugged until it tipped back for you. He gazed up at you with his hazelnut eyes, shining and near to spilling over with emotion, and you pressed your forehead to his. He breathed you in, thinking he would give everything for this to be forever.

“You are a good man, Clyde Logan.” Your voice was barely a whisper, a low, perfect secret just for him. “And I can’t imagine having met anyone else that night.”

Clyde’s cheeks, nose, and ears blushed with feeling, and he pressed his full, quivering lips into a containing line. He shook his head slightly, not wanting to think of what could have happened to you with the AFM or if you’d crawled into someone else’s place. He wrapped both arms around you impossibly tight and laid his forehead against your sternum, desperately trying to memorize the steady thump of your heartbeat.

You held him for a long time, caressing his shoulders and back tenderly; but eventually, it came time to take you home. You’d called Lee yesterday to tell him you were fine, but he knew they needed to see you were ok. You needed to see that they were all ok, too. As much as it pained him, he drove you down off the mountain and steeled himself with every passing mile to be ready to let you go. 

Again.

In the driveway, you asked him to come in, to meet your family, and his heart skipped a beat. He turned and stared at you longer than he intended, eyes skipping over your flushing cheeks, the pretty coral tank top you were wearing, your bare shoulders. He counted the freckles on your face, thinking that maybe this was more than he believed it could be, maybe he could really be yours. He looked from you to the house and back again.

“What if they don’t like me?”

Clyde hunched over and chewed his full lower lip, looking out the windshield at the big, blue house. He rubbed his hands nervously against his pants, already feeling his good palm sweat and his knuckles feel like they needed cracking.

“Clyde, y’rescued me from all manner of trouble. Twice.” You chuckled softly, drawing his gaze. “They’re gonna love you.”

He nodded, deciding that you wouldn’t have offered if you didn’t truly want him there. That sealed it, and he helped you out of the driver’s side of his truck. Before he registered that he was doing it, Clyde pulled you in snug and molded his body around yours. He inhaled your scent long and deep, feeling like it was quickly becoming the source of his strength.

“Hey,” you soothed, tucking fingers into the collar of his gray Jon Denver, “S’alright. Everything is gonna be ok.”

He was about to tell you that even if your family was lovely, like he was sure they were, he wasn’t sure he could leave you here, that he wasn’t sure he could not wake up with you tomorrow. He clung to your waist and back, just about to beg you to stay with him, but the front door burst open, and the moment was gone.

Pandemonium erupted from inside the house, spilling over onto the porch and around his truck.

He tried to keep a hold of you, to keep you within arm’s reach, but that plan was quickly shot to hell when you were rounded around one corner and he another. Each time you would catch his eye, you’d huff a little chuckle and give him a wink that made him blush.

For the next hour, Clyde was all but handed around the dining room, living room, and kitchen as each person he talked to wanted to introduce him to someone else or thank him or shake his hand. Your family was wonderful and genuinely grateful to him for bringing you home.

Finally, he had to escape to the back patio for a breather. The mountain air was crisp and clean, and he swallowed it down into his belly, trying to drink in the calm. For a moment, he was angry at the world. How had an alpha, how had YOU, been so close all this time without him knowing? Why did it take him so long to get to be happy?

Was he even going to get to be happy?

At the wood porch railing, he looked out over the creek, the mountain, the trees and clenched his fists, right then left, trying to get himself together. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, certainly not your beautiful family’s fault, and he wouldn’t trade a second of the last week, but he couldn’t help but feel cheated and angry at all the time he’d spent being lonely.

“S’Clyde, right?”

An older voice came from the patio corner, and he turned to look, squinting into the sun. An older woman was seated on a rocking chair, wrapped in a knitted shawl and tucked underneath a quaint, green awning. He ducked his head down and stepped a little bit closer, taught to never be rude to his elders.

“Ah, yes Ma’am. I’m Clyde Logan.”

“Sit a spell, Clyde Logan.”

He could see a slight resemblance to you, and his mouth turned up at the corners. She was smaller in build, but she commanded his attention just with her very presence. Her voice was level, strong, and he slid down into the rocking chair next to her, already feeling soothed, less flustered. She patted his metal arm gently, unbothered by it just the way you were.

“Somethin’ wearin' on ya, boy?”

He sighed, knowing she’d caught him practicing his relaxation technique, and nodded. Looking down at his fabricated joints, he took a moment to get his thoughts together, making sure his voice wasn’t going to squeak or break. He had to tell someone; and somehow, he felt like she was the right person.

“How could she be right here, so close, this whole time and me not know it?”

“Y'lived here all your life, Clyde?” She was studying him, and he felt like she was looking into his heart, kind but determined.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, “West Virginia. Just over th’state line.”

It was her turn to nod, to look back out over the trees. This was her court, he decided, the place where she presided and dished out the knowledge of her years. Clyde felt reverential, starving for what she might tell him.

“The mountains, this whole countryside is corrupted.” She sneered, clearly disgusted. “You’d have know’d it if that’s what they wanted.”

Clyde held his breath, feeling like he was on the verge of something profound. He twisted in the rocking chair, dwarfing its back with his size. He leaned toward her as though he could absorb her words before he heard them.

“Since I was a girl, the AFM been brainwashin’ folks all up and down these mountains. Teachin’ that only men can be alphas. Gettin’ families to send their alpha women away as though they was trash.”

If ever this woman, clearly your forebear, was anxious, it had long ago burned away. She was clearly at the point in her life where she would speak her truth, the crack of it like a pistol echoing over the ridge, and she didn’t give a damn who was around to disagree.

“Lee said,” Clyde’s throat caught, and he cleared it quietly. “Lee said that y’all have been protectin’ your women somehow?”

“AFM wants folks to believe alphas have their druthers, pick of the litter.” She nodded, rocking a bit faster in her chair as she got riled up. 

“We just let ‘em believe it. S’horseshit s’what it is; but as long as they believe it, they stay away for th’most part, lessen’ they find out for sure some gal is an alpha.”

Clyde blinked at her, struck dumb by what she was saying and desperate for her to go on. His brain churned out questions, nerves, fears. ‘Lessen’ they find out for sure,’ she said. Alphas could naturally identify omegas, he’d been taught this since he was a boy; couldn’t they also naturally identify other alphas? If not, how had the AFM known about you for sure? 

“Fact is,” she looked at him and tapped the side of her nose, “ain’t the mark that matters. S’the smell.”

“Mamaw!” You burst out of the patio door, breathless and smiling. “Here you are!”

He looked up at you and automatically reached out, needing to feel your grounding contact. You curled your fingers around his, and he stared right at that electric connection, thinking you might be the only thing keeping him in his body.

“Talk to this boy, Alpha. Set him right.”

You smiled at her, helping her to stand and leaning in to press your nose to hers. Clyde looked away from the tender moment, feeling like he was invading a private thing.

“I will, Mamaw.”

When she was back inside, you returned to him. Tipping your head towards the door, you offered him a place to start, clearly seeing all the questions playing at his face.

“My Daddy was the last Alpha ‘fore me. Mamaw was ‘fore him.”

Clyde’s head was swimming, and he looked up at you with a terrible mix of uncertainty, hope, and longing. You reached out to touch his shoulder, and he swallowed, trying to moisten his mouth and throat enough to speak.

“What does the mark don’t matter mean?”

You chewed your lip and looked out over the trees, just the way your Mamaw had done. He could see more of the similarities in your gestures and actions. You’d grown up here, in this house and on this back patio; he could just tell.

“You remember the first day we met, Clyde? And how you told me I smelled so good? Still do tell me that, actually.” Your lips quirked up on a smile.

He nodded, pushing to his feet to stand because he needed to feel more of you. Tracing the curve of your hip with his flesh fingertips, he tried to focus on what you were saying and not the sudden icy tendrils of anxiety in his chest.

“Go inside and see if you can smell anybody in there the way you could me, the way you can.” 

You pushed on his chest when he tried to step closer and shook your head a bit. 

“Do this, please? There’s a big tree down over the hill. Meet me there after, ok?”

You lifted his fingers, kissed his palm, and darted off the patio, leaving him to blink dazedly and try to muddle through everything that had happened in the last 20 minutes. 

Just as you asked, Clyde poked his head back into the house and moved through. He smiled at people, shook a few hands, and went through every room of the first floor. He wanted to be able to tell you he’d done exactly as you asked, that he’d taken your instruction to heart.

It wasn’t until the second room that it began to dawn on him. He could smell perfume, pipe tobacco, and pecan pie, but that was it. He licked at the roof of his mouth, thinking about the way you smelled and how it was always so complete and enveloping he could downright taste it.

The full weight of understanding hit him when he spied your Mamaw in the corner, watching him piece it all together. His honey-brown eyes met hers, knowing and compassionate, and she nodded, tapping the end of her nose and pushing him fully into this reckoning.

He couldn’t smell anybody else the way he could you.

Clyde’s mind vaulted a mile a minute. He thought back over people in his life, starting with Jimmy and Sylvia and trying to remember what they smelled like. Jimmy smelled like sawdust and gasoline. Sylvia smelled like hand soap and medicine. He recalled that his mommy smelled like the flowers she always planted in the spring, and his first girlfriend smelled like old books and cedar firewood.

Real things.

They all smelled like tangible, concrete things from their lives, from their environment.

You smelled like spice and sunlight, caramel and whiskey, mountain air and mist on the trees. When you were near him, especially now after you’d been in heat, he could smell you with his fingertips, his taste buds, to the very soles of his feet. Your scent caused his  _ whole body _ to react.

Frantic for you, he tore from the house as fast as he could, hunting around for the tree where he was supposed to meet you. He sped down the hill, eyes glossy and unfocused.

Unknowingly, he was tracking you entirely by scent, and he launched himself into your arms inside the shady shelter the heavy branches made. Lifting you, he buried his face in your hair, letting you wrap around him like a balm.

Clyde’s broad, strong shoulders, capable of carrying so much, shook, and his heart thundered in his tight chest. He dug his fingers into the back of your shirt and pinched his eyes shut as tight as he could. He held you so tight he worried he might hurt you.

But he couldn't let go.

“Omega, take a  **breath** .”

He stuttered and nodded against you, feeling the call to obey in every cell. His lips wobbled, but he leaned back to look at you, the plea in his eyes evident. Stroking his face, you coaxed him back into an even pattern and smiled when he was less panicked.

“The AFM got a stranglehold on these parts, and they been teachin' you, and ever’one really, that an alpha chooses his mate and marks her. Want everybody to believe that she ain’t his until he puts that bite on her.” 

Your matter-of-fact tone soothed him, and he worked hard to focus on just you. Your demeanor, steady through his storm, bolstered his resolve. His terrified grip eased, and he set you down on your feet, still clinging to you but not holding you up awkwardly.

"They also tell folks that it's the natural ability of an alpha to identify omegas by their smell.”

“Yes, s’what we were taught” Clyde nodded, wanting to show you he was here with you and listening.

You drew in something of a shaky breath, and he squeezed your sides, not knowing what could possibly make you so nervous but wanting to comfort you through it. He had leaned on you so many times since you'd met, and he wanted you to know you could lean on him, too.

He felt like his world was about to change with whatever you said next, but he wasn't sure he wanted it if it upset you. 

“Fact is,” you stopped to lick your lips, “It ain’t that alphas can scent out omegas. Or even other alphas.” 

You looked up at him, eyes clear and bright, and he forgot to breathe. He almost knew what you were going to say before you said it, but it was essential to his very guts that you say the words out loud.

“It’s mates that scent out mates.”

Clyde’s back hit the tree, his knees buckling under the weight of what you just said. He held tight to your waist, straining to keep you balanced and upright while he rattled inside his skin. 

“I didn't scent you out because you’re an omega, Clyde.” 

You took a steadying breath and carried on. Thunderstruck, he stared at you, eyes wide as saucers, unable to speak. You didn’t reach for him; and somewhere in the back of his head, he wondered why. Why wouldn’t you want to comfort him at this very moment?

“It's because you belong to me. You are  _ my  _ Omega, my mate." 

Your voice was soft, small like when you'd asked if he was going to leave. You were afraid he wouldn't believe you or that he would bolt; he could see it plain on your face. Despite what you were telling him, the decades of ignorance you were undoing, you still wanted him to have the choice, and his heart tripped over itself when he realized it.

"And you can smell me, the same way, because I belong to you. I am  _ your  _ Alpha."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to Bexter Bex/@crystallclover for beta reading and helping me tease out this idea.


	4. Little Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde’s jaw locked, and he poured over the last things he remembered.
> 
> He was with you, at your home and with your family. He had been leaning against that pretty tree with your beautiful face looking at him, and you told him you were his Alpha, that he was your mate. Everything went black right after those glorious words.
> 
> Realization dawned, and he vaulted to his feet in a surge of panic. He was in this barn without you. He had been assaulted, and he didn’t know where you were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still love me some Clyde. I hadn't really intended for this story to go past chapter 2, but I'm really enjoying how its unfolding. I hope you enjoy also. :)

Clyde woke, woozy and addled. Blinking hard, he lifted his head and looked around, brow furrowing in confusion. It was dark, but not dead of night. He swallowed down glass and shook his head to clear the shrill whine.

Groggy, he flexed his fingers and noted that his prosthesis was missing. Even in the low lighting, he could see that he was in a barn, tossed into a stall on some dirty hay. He touched a damp spot at his temple, identifying the source of the dizziness as a blow to the head.

Clyde’s jaw locked, and he poured over the last things he remembered.

He was with you, at your home and with your family. He had been leaning against that pretty tree with your beautiful face looking at him, and you told him you were his Alpha, that he was your mate. Everything went black right after those glorious words.

Realization dawned, and he vaulted to his feet in a surge of panic. He was in this barn without you. He had been assaulted, and he didn’t know where you were.

His training kicked in, and he quickly took stock of the situation. He was alone, his captors assuming that a crippled man wasn’t much of a threat. Peering out the door as best he could, he saw that this was the top of a mountain, the blanket of trees spreading out just beyond the hilltop.

He thanked the Good Lord for a cloudless mountain night.

He was just about to figure a way to climb over the stall door as quietly as he could when he heard you. It was a roar, all wrath and impatience, and it lit a fire in him the likes of which he never thought himself capable.

Holding his breath to suppress the snarl, he stomped on the barn door, throwing the whole of his weight into the kick and breaking the thing clear in half. What he planned as a calculated attack turned into a full-blown frenzy, and he tore up the pathway to the adjoining building like a man possessed.

Fuck if they heard him. Fuck if they had guns. Fuck if there were 20 of them. You were in there. That was all that mattered.

Up near the out-building, Clyde hit a veritable wall of your scent, your pheromones on overdrive. He stopped dead in his tracks, struck with something akin to pride. It wasn’t fear in your voice; it was fury. He bristled, every little hair prickling up; something big must be happening to you to keep all of that anger contained.

“Roy!” Your yell cut through Clyde’s chest on an echo. “If you don’t let me the FUCK OUTTA HERE to check on my goddamn Omega, I swear to everything good and holy you will NOT walk outta this on two fucking feet.”

Clyde blanched, unable to move himself forward. He remembered Roy; he’d met him at the party. Roy was your first cousin. But why was he here? 

Your Mamaw’s words broke through his fog, and he gaped, struck dumb by the understanding that it was Roy who had turned you in to the AFM. She said they only struck when they knew for sure a woman was an alpha, which meant someone had to tell them.  **Roy** had told them about you.

“Shut up! You couldn’t just take your licks like a smart girl, huh? Had to bring in that unholy abomination into MY HOUSE?”

Clyde’s eyes narrowed, spite filling his mouth with nails. He’d been called worse things in his life, but hearing this man tell you to shut up did things to him. No one should speak to you like that, least of all family, and he imagined how many bones he’d have to break before Roy got the message.

“It isn’t your house, asshole.” 

Your voice lowered, smoothed into a terrifying calm. You’d picked up on him; your heightened sense of smell honing in on him, just him. Clyde’s ego flexed, and his intention solidified. He  _ was _ your Omega.

“That’s your momma’s house,” you said. “And what do you think she’s gonna do when she finds out about this?”

The next sounds he heard dropped his heart into his gut and sped him through the door. It could only have been a kick to your middle and the ensuing lurch of your stomach.

Everything in him screamed to get in there—get to you.

Clyde rushed in and latched onto the first man he saw. He didn’t have two hands, but he damn sure had two strong, hefty arms. He used the left one to turn the guy’s back to his chest while his expert hand stole the gun. Spinning the guy away, Clyde kicked him square in the center of the chest and pinched off two shots to his kneecaps.

He heard curses and shuffling as the shots resounded down the hall. They knew he was here now, but Clyde never stopped moving. The only thing he could think about was how this was the second time the AFM got their hands on you; but this time, he was here.

Two more men met the ground as he turned the corner, one hit in the shoulder and one in the thigh. He was trying his damnedest not to kill anyone, not knowing if they were your kin. Seizing every weapon he found, he ejected the clips and stuffed them all in his back pocket.

His vision reddened as he heard a slap and a shriek. He was almost there and almost out of mercy.

“I’m comin’ Alpha!”

Clyde ran out of bullets just as the wide room came into view, the click of the gun eliciting a curse. He couldn't wait anymore, though, couldn't even take time to reload.

Coming fully into the space, he saw Roy first, rifle pointed and trembling. 

Laying eyes on you launched Clyde into another stratosphere. They chained your arms to your side, the thick links biting welt marks into your skin. You hung from a beam with your toes barely scraping the floor. From the waist down, you were free, not bound at all, and he drowned in murderous rage at the implication.

What the AFM had planned for you was something that was his, only his.

Narrowing his focus on Roy, he crossed the room in three strides and wrenched the gun from his hands. The rat was too anxious, too petrified by this mountain of a man, to even shoot.

There was no blocking the volley of punches Clyde leveled on this bastard who dared betray you and your family. He could hear you in the background, just behind the rushing of blood in his ears, but he was too far gone. He stomped, kicked, and beat Roy until he was spattered with blood and the worthless bag of bones stopped moving.

“ **CLYDE! OMEGA STOP!** ”

His entire body sagged, finally registering your shouts and the call to obey in every muscle. The rushing tide within him didn’t abate, however; it simply shifted focus. To you.  _ His _ Alpha.

A dangerous kind of wild took over his eyes as Clyde’s body flooded with desire and demand, a compelling force that sprang up from his very DNA.

Scrambling over, he cupped your face in his bloody hand and pressed a quivering kiss to your mouth. He was rougher than he intended, invading your mouth with his whole tongue to satisfy the ragged urgency for your taste. He bit at your lips, still flushing feral and forced into something he’d never experienced, something he didn’t think he could contain.

“It’s ok.” You nodded when he let you loose to breathe. “I’m ok.”

He nodded with you, trying to internalize what you were saying. He couldn’t think past this emptiness in the pit of his stomach, this carnal craving that went to his core. You smelled so good, and you were here, right here for him. 

He tangled fingers into your hair and laid starving claim to your lips until they were kiss-swollen and blushing. He could scarcely break contact to inhale, oblivious to the strange surroundings and circumstance.

A sudden, sharp pain blew through his belly, chased by a shocked yelp.

“Alpha, I…” His guts twisted, and he clung to the chain holding you pitifully, trying to fight through this unfamiliar sensation.

“Fuck.” You nudged him with your knee, still trying to care for him even through this terrible ordeal. “It’s all right. Omega, don’t fight it.”

He groaned loud at your instruction, grateful that you knew what was happening to him even if he didn’t. He clutched at the chain until his knuckles turned white. A fresh wave of ache and longing doubled him over, and Clyde’s mouth watered terribly. Suddenly, you were too far away, too clothed, too not in his mouth.

"Can't wait." 

His powerful hand tore at your ripped and dirty pants and lacy blue panties. He fell to his knees, pushed your thigh up over his shoulder, and buried his face in your pussy on a long, low moan.

Your taste, your smell, penetrated his every sense, and he gripped your hip as tight as he dared.

“Shit, Clyde…” Your voice tapered off into a whimper, but he was relentless. 

Hungrily, he lapped at your entrance and bit at your labia. He sucked on your clit until you shouted and squirmed, nudging his nose against it when he abandoned the bundle of nerves for your heavenly slick. He groaned and swallowed it down like ambrosia, greedily forcing you towards another gush just for him to taste.

He slid two fingers into your heat, pumping and coaxing out more of your sweet slip. Your legs trembled, the one curved around his back struggling to hold him tighter. All manner of shameless sounds dripped from his lips, vibrating against your sensitive sex. Looping both arms around your hips, Clyde smothered himself with you as your orgasm crested.

“So good.” He hummed against your thigh, nipping the tender skin.

Just as swiftly as the first burning impulse to taste you came, his body changed course, throwing him headlong into the compulsion that he had to be inside of you  _ right now _ . 

Somewhere in the recesses of his rational brain, Clyde understood that the danger, the prospect of losing you, threw him into a rut, but this was nothing like any he’d experienced before. Prior to you, he could care for himself, lock himself in his house, and handle his own needs, but the primal being in control right now only knew biological finalities.

Nothing was more important than for him to show you he was a worthy mate, to make you want his mark, to give you his children.

It consumed him, this essential, ancient drive to offer every ounce of himself to you.

He stood and fumbled, his fingers shaking so much he could hardly work the infernal buttons on his jeans in his feverish state. When they finally complied and his swollen, leaking cock sprang free, Clyde gasped, soothed at the escape, but it was short-lived. The cool air on his dick did nothing at all to relieve the burning under his skin.

“Darlin’...” He tried to appease his appetite by stroking his inflamed, engorged cock, but it was no use. “just... have to…”

He whimpered and stepped closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck and gripping your hip so hard he knew there would be bruises. You wrapped your legs around him, and he almost cried at the solace. He was nearly blind with the need to bury himself in your cunt, and you would not deny him.

In one rough thrust, Clyde carved out a place for himself in your body, barking a loud curse into your shoulder. You were hot and wet and everywhere, and he could not reign himself in for anything in the world.

He crashed into you, hips stabbing forwards to plunge his desperate cock into you to the hilt again and again. He used the buoyancy afforded by your bondage to pull you into him just as hard as he slammed forward. You shook under the forceful pace, hips and ass bouncing against his body in the way that liquefied his bones.

The drag and throb of your pussy around every long stroke set Clyde’s eyes to rolling back in his head. It was exquisite torture, velvet and tight and exactly the right size for his pulsing, twitching dick.

“M’here, Omega.” Your breath hitched, voice breaking on the intake. “M’yours.”

His nails dug into your supple skin, recognizing the things he’d said to you at the start of your heat not so many days ago.

Clyde’s eyes watered, tears spilling over because only he would get to fuck you like this, your words ringing in his ears. If you wanted it, he would give you a hundred babies, watch your body blossom with his seed. He moaned into your neck at the idea of your belly swollen with his child, the tempo of his hips kicking up to give you exactly that.

“Yours,” he grunted into that spot he wanted to sink his teeth into. “Fuck! Alpha!”

He didn’t wait; he didn’t ask; he didn’t even know if he’d be able to stop. On a wailing growl, he emptied his too full dick into your waiting cunt. Relief washed over him, the urgency in his very cells momentarily abating and allowing conscious thought back to the forefront.

He pressed his forehead to yours and struggled to get his breathing under control.

“Omega,” you shifted against him, earning a wince and a hiss. “We have to go. Promise I’m gonna take care of you, but we have to leave.”

Gathering his wits, Clyde nodded and pulled from your wonderful heat with a wounded huff. All he wanted to do was fall asleep sunk deep in your pussy and wrapped in your arms, but you were right. That couldn’t happen here. 

He carefully lifted you off of the hook, setting you on your feet to hunt for the key. In minutes, he had the binding chain switched from you to Roy and locked up tight. He turned to find you shimmying back into your tight pants without your panties, and his eyes flashed dark with untamed lust.

“No.” You pointed a finger at him and shook your head. “We’re gonna get at least five minutes away from this place first.”

Unwilling to leave even a part of you behind, he tossed the stolen clips and snatched up your panties, stuffing them into his pocket before following you out of the building. He saw lights coming up the way and herded you into a black pickup truck. Hot-wired and thrown into gear, Clyde slammed on the gas and barreled out of the driveway.

Clyde drove until he couldn’t concentrate on the road anymore. He pushed himself to his very breaking point because he had to get you away from there, from those people. He decided that he couldn’t take you home because you didn’t know how many others were in on Roy’s plan, and he breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t argue.

He wanted to reach for you, to hide under the soft curtain of your hair, but he only had one working hand now, and he gripped the steering wheel angrily tight. If he ever found out what they did with his prosthesis, he fully intended to beat them stupid with it.

20 miles away from The Duck Tape, he lost all focus. His eyes blurred, and his nostrils flared. Even with the windows down, the truck cab was small and filled to the brim with you, the smell of your body, your hair, your breath, your very skin cells.

“Just need a minute, Darlin’.”

At an abandoned gas station along the parkway, he found the darkest corner of the property and parked. Clyde heard himself whine pathetically and crammed his fist into his eye socket in frustration. There was no way to get you into his lap; there just wasn’t enough room. 

“C’mere Clyde.” You threw the door open and hopped out. “‘Round this way.”

Stumbling out of the truck and around to you, he folded you into his relieved embrace and tucked his nose into your hairline. He quaked, unable to do anything but fight himself.

This wasn’t the time or place, but he  _ needed _ it to be the time and place.

“Have to get you home, Alpha. Still not safe.”

It was a croak, a dry plea he hadn’t fully committed to. His entire body was stinging fire; and when your deft fingers unbuttoned his pants, he didn’t argue.

“Hush now.” You stood onto your toes and swept kisses along the length of his rigid jaw. “Don’t argue.”

Clyde melted. His knees wobbled; and in trying to hold on to reality, he fisted his hand into your shirt so hard the seam popped. He felt the tenuous control he had over himself slipping.

“Darlin’,” he sought his spot, forehead to forehead. “M’scared I’ll hurt you.”

You wrapped both hands around his bulging dick and stroked the sticky pre-cum into the red skin. The moan he rewarded you with was obscene, a loud, don’t-care-who-hears kind of sound he’d never made before. Cinching both fists tight around him, you squeezed his dick hard until his eyes met yours.

“Dare you to try.”

The flash in your eyes was too tempting to ignore, and Clyde purged every thought but rising to your challenge.

He wrapped trembling digits around your beautiful throat and pinched, testing your resolve. You held his hungry gaze, and that was all he needed. You’d shown yourself to be stronger than him at every turn; he had to believe you wouldn’t steer him wrong now.

“If you don’t take your pants off,” he panted between harsh kisses, “M’gonna tear ‘em to shreds.”

He couldn’t let go of your neck to give you a single bit of help, but you hastily complied, shoving the fabric down your legs and kicking the pile away. 

He knew he should hurry, that it wasn’t safe to be here so openly, but he lingered for a moment to look at you, so flushed and pretty and ready. He wanted to lick your spine, kiss every rib, worship you the way you deserved.

His body was running the show, though; and instead, he spun you around, bent you over, and kicked your legs wide apart. Lining himself up, Clyde slammed his hips forward and lodged the full length of his cock into your perfect pussy in one lunge. 

He relished your loud shout, loving the sounds you made. He nearly came just from the way your body immediately sucked him in so intensely. His jaw hung open, and his head tipped back, so fucking thankful for you and your tight cunt.

“Push on that seat, Darlin’.” His fingers dug into your side, clawing himself a handle. “Help me, Alpha, please.”

He hated that he had to ask, hated that he couldn’t grip you with two real hands and pound into you, but he also loved that you didn’t question it for even a second, that your small hands splayed out and you took a strong stance for him.

“C’mon, little spoon,” your voice danced back over one shoulder. “Show your Alpha what’ya got.”

He whimpered at the affectionate title. His mind flashed to those amazing days in the cabin and how you’d let him be the little spoon that last night, playful and loving, and it hurled his heart straight into the end of his dick. He threw himself into a vigorous pace, hips crashing into yours.

He chanted an imploring litany. Your name, your claim, your title on his lips driving him further into delirium, the impossible clench of your pussy running him rabid. You punched your shoulders down low, changing the angle of his assault, and Clyde’s brain short-circuited.

He was so far into your cunt that he felt the nudge of your cervix, felt the rub against his cock head, and he let loose a series of grunts he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

“Y’want babies, Alpha?” 

Every individual part of him swelled in response to your chorus of  _ yesyesyes _ . And when he could feel the tremor in your cunt, the blissful compression signaling the rush of your orgasm, he bit down on his lip and poured every bit of energy into a last surge of mighty, rapid thrusts.

The world shrank away. Clyde saw flashing white spots and felt his massive body vibrate. Your spasming cunt milked him for every scorching drop of his seed, and he shoved it as far into you as he could, aiming to brand your insides with it. No other sounds existed apart from your pleasured cries and his hopeful, internal pleas.

_ Keep me. Claim me. I’ve always been yours. _

On the other side of spent, he had you scooped up against him so he could sob into your neck. Your legs still shook, but they wrapped around his middle, hugging so tight. You carded fingers into his hair and scratched at his damp scalp, leading him back to some measure of composure.

“Let’s go home, Omega.” You patted his shoulder gently. “I’ll call the brothers when we get there.”

Clyde spent the rest of the ride with his head in your lap, curled onto the tiny truck bench as best he could, while you drove him into tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Crystallclover for beta reading! Love you bb.


	5. Close to Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the afternoon flew by. Everybody agreed that these two families needed to act as one. Everybody also agreed that the AFM needed to not only be stopped but run out of the region completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who loves an Omega Clyde just as much as I do. <3

Three in the morning.

Clyde’s bedroom was a beautiful bubble of sweat, sex, and pheromones. He reckoned he might never change the sheets again.

Two days had passed in a blur. He couldn’t remember a rut like this. Ever. His skin itched, too sensitive to be touched but only soothed by your touch. His scalp burned. His teeth ached. His eyes misted each time he sunk into you, so grateful that you were real.

Inside those two days, you’d taken care of him and all the business. You called the brothers to let them know what happened and where you were. You set the meeting between the families that would take place later today, and you talked with Jimmy every time he called to check in (too much in Clyde’s opinion).

Clyde’s feverish drive finally broke in the afternoon chased by a terrible exhaustion. Somehow, you had the wherewithal to order food, march him through a sluggish shower, and practically pour water down his gullet before you both dropped unconscious.

Now, it was three in the morning, and he watched you sleep, wondering how the Good Lord made someone as perfect as you.

Faintly, Clyde brushed his fingertips over the dark spots dotting your hip. He skimmed up along your back to draw lazy circles over the love bites he’d raised at your shoulders. You shushed each worry he’d expressed over hurting you, and he had to admit that he loved seeing evidence of himself on your body.

He should let you sleep. He knew he should.

But you were right here, this incredible mix of softness and strength that lured him like a beacon. He pressed his lips to your upper arm tenderly and closed his eyes to inhale the swirl of everything that lingered on your skin.

He wanted to show you his appreciation, his adoration. He wanted to worship every inch of you so you knew how wonderful he thought you were.

He wanted to _love_ you.

Clyde laid feather-soft kisses from the round of your shoulder to the crook of your neck. He brushed your hair aside to nudge his nose behind your ear before placing another kiss there. You stirred, and he nuzzled your nape. When you reached back to lace your fingers with his, he thought his heart might explode right out of his chest.

“Lay on your belly; will you Alpha?”

Your eyes blinked open, focusing suddenly. Alert and concerned, you looked over your shoulder at him. When your gaze met his, Clyde’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he shook his head. This wasn’t the rut, but your worry for his well-being swelled his insides, diffusing him with a warm glow.

“M’ok.” He turned his face into your hair and nodded. “Lemme love on ya a little while.”

Moving barely an inch back, he propped himself up as you wiggled around to lie on your stomach, arms crossed under your head and face turned to one side. He straddled your calves and leaned over you, letting his eyes wander every place he wanted to touch and taste.

A tired exhale sunk your chest down, and he just watched you breathe for a bit. He knew he was being selfish, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It was all he could do to not mark every single vertebra of your spine. Instead, he brushed his knuckles up and down the length of it.

He was in love with this moment, peaceful, and he poured it into every kiss, every touch. He lavished attention on your shoulder blades, the crooks of your knees, the dip at the small of your back. He matched your appreciative hum as he mouthed at each rib individually, just like he’d been wanting to do for days. 

Unhurried, he spread his affection over you like a blanket, doing his very best to wrap you up in this feeling with him.

He didn’t lose control until his trail of kisses led to the cleft of your ass. He licked it, and you rewarded him with a delicious mewl and lifted your hips ever so slightly. Clyde gave that spot another kiss, another slow stroke of his tongue; and when your thighs twitched, he purred right there, lips vibrating, until the lift of your hips nearly threw him off.

“Good spot, Darlin’?”

You murmured something and nodded, settling back against his pillow, which was all the permission he needed. His kisses grew more insistent, and he painted a wet path between your buttocks with his tongue to poke and wiggle against the tight bundle of nerves hidden there, testing the waters. Your soft groan urged him on, and he flattened his tongue to lick a wide swath from there to that new, special patch he’d found.

Ignoring how his face burned to burrow right there between your cheeks, he crawled back up and tugged at your hip. He whispered a plea into your hair that you turn over. It was his turn to whine when you pressed your hips and ass up into his rigid dick teasingly. Stretching like a cat, you rubbed against him in outright torment before dropping onto your back.

“Evil,” he said.

His lips twitched, parallel to the smirk dancing across yours, but he righted his course and littered kisses from your chin to sternum. He traced circles in your hip while sucking a mark into your collar bone. 

It was heaven the way you’d stop him from time to time to rub the pad of your thumb over his plump lips or how, when he looked up at your face, you were watching him with this pleased pride glittering in your eyes.

He stopped breathing every time.

At your chest, he wrapped his hand around one breast and descended on the other with his mouth. Mirroring fingers to tongue, he coaxed the nipple to stiffness and rubbed it from side to side until you squirmed. He sucked and pulled and teased both hard peaks. 

You gasped and moaned, shifted and trembled, but you never told him to stop or hurry. He wanted this to be for you, to make you feel good, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t for him, too. He knew you had seen how much he yearned for this, to show you, his alpha, his feelings, his utter thankfulness for your very existence, his dedication. 

And you let him do it. You let him have these moments, despite your clear exhaustion, because he needed them. You curled your fingers into his dark waves and watched him with this kind of understanding he’d never experienced before.

Clyde knew in his bones that you would always see what he needed before he did.

Overcome, he murmured praises and thanks into your belly, weeks’ worth of gratitude falling from his quivering lips. Beautiful, he said. Amazing, prettiest girl ever, and just so goddamn strong. So grateful, he whispered. Can’t think of what life was before you.

He hid those too-big feelings by rubbing his nose into your abdomen. He slid his hand up between your breasts to settle over your heartbeat and anchored himself to that rhythm.

Down, down, down, he left a broad stripe of devotion until he was nipping and nudging his nose against your mound. Even with how desperately he wanted to taste you, he kept his tongue out of that honeyed patch. Barely.

His rut had been relentless, and he had buried his needy cock in this pretty pussy again and again for days. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

You were wet for him, though. He could see the glisten, smell the tang. His mouth watered. His stomach damn near growled. He pushed your leg up so he could stare directly into your sex and watch that one fat bead of arousal roll along the curve.

“C’n I taste ya, Alpha? Y’hurtin’ too much?”

Fiery hazel eyes tore away from their target to find you cool as a cucumber. Something of an amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you dragged out the moment, waiting until he was panting with want and barely containing himself from gorging on the feast you withheld.

“Not hurting.” You tugged on a curl teasingly. “Say please.”

He groaned but tried to hide it by pushing his lips into your thigh. He rubbed his jaw into the soft flesh and chanted the word over and over. He begged into your hip, your pubic bone, the crease of your thigh. Finally, he hovered right over your clit and forced himself to look at your face rather than the destination he wanted so badly.

“Darlin’...” he gulped, hoarse with urgency, “please.”

Clyde had no idea if you said yes, no clue if the nod he saw was real or imagined. But a second later, his mouth was buried in your cunt, and he was moaning shamelessly at the taste. He wrapped both arms around your hips and splayed out across the foot of the bed, intent upon spending the rest of his days right here.

That first time in the barn was driven by blinding haste, his body thrown into an overwhelming barrage of  _ nownownow _ . And though he felt the same hunger, the same consuming need to devour you, he took his time. 

Clyde bathed every inch of your pussy with his lips and tongue. He bit and tugged on both labia until they were shining and swollen. He sucked your clit until your legs shook; and then, he buried his tongue into your weeping slit, thrusting the muscle as far inside as he could.

He was certain he could feel your heartbeat with the tip of his tongue, and it drove him crazy. 

He hummed, beyond pleased at your every sound, the ring in his ears better than church. You whimpered and whinged, twisting and bucking your hips into and just out of his kisses. You whispered his name, cried out softly, and shouted a string of curses the deeper he dove. 

But when you held your breath, he growled, still starved and greedy for what came next. That catch of breath... that arch of your chest... both were signals he knew so well now.

Pushing two long fingers into your pussy, he circled his tongue around your clit and wiggled it under the sensitive hood. He curled his fingers upwards, stroking that walnut-sized treasure trove again and again. A strangled whine broke from your throat when he sealed his lips around your shining nub, sucking and flicking it with the end of his tongue.

He basked in your unraveling, moaning loud when your thighs closed around his head because he could feel them quiver. With your fingers tangled into his hair, he opened his eyes to watch you and forgot to breathe. You were exquisite, gorgeous in the way you undulated. Losing himself to it, he felt his own moans reverberate against his lips and fingertips.

It was everything, and he never wanted it to end.

Your body shook and contorted, chasing that high. Your knees drew up high, and the things that tumbled from your mouth were nothing short of sinful.  _ Such a good goddamn mouth. Don’t fucking stop. Just like that. _ He pushed you through it, reveling in the way you shouted his name as you came, his sloppy kisses and plunging fingers wanting more.

When you all of your after-tremors lessened, he finally relented, slipping sticky fingers from your core and pushing your legs apart again. Tenderly, reverently, he licked up all the remnants of your orgasm, rolling every savory note over his tongue on a pleased sigh.

Having chased down every drop, he gave you his mouth, sharing your taste until your kisses grew weak from exhaustion. Putting his screaming body in check, Clyde turned you back to your side and tucked in close. Wrapping around you, he thought he had never felt so content, so complete as this. 

Hours later, you sat on one end of his red couch while he paced. The families would be here any minute, and he didn’t know what would happen next. Was Jimmy going to be angry? What happened to Roy? Why hadn’t a single police officer come to question him about all the men he shot? What happened to his damn arm?

“Omega…”

You would tell him to sit down; he knew it, but the knock at the door saved him. Relieved, his shoulders dropped, the tension draining away a little because at least something was about to happen. It was the waiting that killed him.

Swinging the door open, Clyde stood face to face with his brother, who appeared to be holding his breath. Jimmy made a sound Clyde had never heard before and hugged him tighter than he could ever remember. 

“Hug on Sylvia for a minute, would ya brother?”

Jimmy ducked past Clyde before he could object. In the next minute, Sylvia had her arms about his middle. It was a concentrated effort to distract him, but Clyde didn’t figure it out until he looked over to find Jimmy crouched down on one knee in front of you. Clyde’s chest locked up, and he could only stare.

It wasn’t a simple thing for an alpha to bow to another alpha. Most were too bull-headed to ever do it. Family alphas were even less likely to show vulnerability, needing to maintain their position as a pillar of strength, but here was Jimmy on his knees in front of you, holding your hands so tight. 

“Thank you for savin’ my brother.” Clyde watched as Jimmy’s throat bobbed to keep his emotions at bay. “For bringin’ him back to us.”

In minutes, Clyde’s house was more full than it had ever been. Along with Jimmy and Sylvia, there was Mellie and Joe Bang. Your brother, Lee, and your Mamaw came in together with his arm tucked into her shoulder bag. Last to round out the meeting was your aunt, Roy’s mom, who apologized to everyone at least 50 times. 

“Now, don’t go apologizin’ for something you didn’t do.”

It was Jimmy who spoke up first, unofficially bringing the meeting to order. Clyde wasn’t sure what would happen with two family alphas in the same room, but he watched you listen to Jimmy just as you’d listened to everyone he’d ever seen talk to you, calm and patient. As an alpha male, Jimmy was expected to take charge, and you seemed perfectly content to let him do it.

He could see your gears turning, though, as Jimmy talked about how he and Lee had found that compound with nobody in it and how they figured none of them boys had called the law because what they were doing there wasn’t legal at the start. Jimmy and Joe Bang agreed that any threat to Clyde was a threat to the entire family; and through it all, you said nothing, but you were far from letting them decide your course of action.

You took it all in, letting the boys in the room tire themselves out with their posturing. You didn’t even correct Jimmy when he addressed Lee as your family’s alpha.

Suddenly, Clyde understood that you were far more calculating than he thought. You had to be, he reasoned. You were responsible for the safety and welfare of your family in a world that wasn’t ready to take you seriously. Jimmy could believe that you were an alpha, but it didn’t occur to him at all that you would be your family’s alpha. 

Hiding a grin, he crossed the room to you and crouched down beside your chair. Letting the rest of the world drop away, he gazed at you, filled with such pride. For his whole life, Jimmy was the strongest person Clyde had ever known. Compared to you, though, Jimmy was hasty and controlled by his emotions, new to this job of leading a family.

It was a long moment before he realized that the rest of the room had stopped. Every pair of eyes trained on him, and he trained his on you.

“Seems to me,” your Mamaw’s cane tapped against the floor in what Clyde decided was irritation, “a threat to one of these young’ins is a threat to two families.”

She waited until everyone nodded or mumbled their agreement. 

“Y’all ain’t ever had to worry about the AFM before, and I’m glad of that. What they do ain’t pretty, and it ain’t right.” 

She pointed at Jimmy with the end of her walking stick and continued.

“But y’all are spoutin’ off over somethin’ you ain’t never dealt with before. Best thing you can do right now is sit down and hush.”

Clyde chuckled, arching an eyebrow and throwing a look over his shoulder to Jimmy, whose mouth opened and closed like a fish. Jimmy was raised better than to talk back to his elders; and so, he just nodded and sat down, a ‘yes ma’am’ on his lips. Mellie and Sylvia looked pleased as punch.

“Tell ‘em, Alpha.”

Your Mamaw waved, shooing you on with a gesture that was neither directly nor indirectly aimed at you. In slow motion, Jimmy and Joe looked from the old woman to your brother, and Clyde had to fight off an outright laugh.

“The AFM stays in business by skirtin’ the law. They operate out in the open because nobody has ever challenged ‘em.”

Your strong, sure voice broke the silence, changing the foundation of Clyde’s life once again. Joe Bang choked on his lemonade. Jimmy’s jaw dropped open. And your Mamaw absolutely snorted out loud at their reactions.

“But any threat to me or mine is a threat my family takes very seriously. I wish I’da been strong enough to act sooner, but I’ll not allow this to keep happenin’ on my mountain.”

Clyde barely restrained himself from burying his face in your lap. ‘Mine,’ you said. It was the claim he’d waited a lifetime to hear. 

“I like her."  Joe Bang shook his finger at you and laughed, pulling a broad grin from Clyde’s lips. 

You waved off Jimmy’s sputtered apologies, telling him that there were more important things to worry about right now than pride. 

“So,” Jimmy said, “What are we gonna do?”

The rest of the afternoon flew by. Everybody agreed that these two families needed to act as one. Everybody also agreed that the AFM needed to not only be stopped but run out of the region completely. Once that was decided, the ideas poured out. Nothing was too small, too silly, or too outrageous. Joe Bang offered to blow them all up, and even that idea wasn’t discarded.

Bit by bit, a plan came together, a multi-pronged attack aimed at rooting out members and sympathizers, taking away some pleasures they looked at as rights, and making life difficult, if not plain unbearable.

A fire sale, Joe called it.

As the sun set, Clyde sat in his favorite chair with you tucked into his lap, nuzzling your jaw with his nose. Everyone had gone but Jimmy, who was staring at you too long for Clyde’s liking. He was ready to throw his brother out, but Jimmy leaned forward in a way that was concerning.

“Will you... ah... Hm.” He sniffled and looked away. “Will you meet my daughter?”

Clyde’s eyes snapped to Jimmy’s worried face, and he sat up straighter. He had seen his brother this emotional very few times in their lives, and those times had always revolved around Sadie. Jimmy was very protective of his daughter. For him to be asking you this meant something big was going on.

“Jimmy?”

“She’s an alpha, Clyde.” Jimmy’s eyes sparkled with tears. His words tumbled out so fast it almost seemed like he didn’t think he could get through it all. “Just found out. They do these health tests for school, y’know? It scared her momma to tell me because of…”

His voice cracked, and Clyde watched his brother wrestle with a fear Jimmy had never had to even imagine before. “... because of the things they do to gals like you. Things her momma knew, but I didn't. Now she says Sadie doesn’t wanna go to school anymore ‘cuz she’s so different.”

“Jimmy.” You leaned over and patted his shoulder, clutching his hand tight. “Of course.”

“I want her to be proud of who she is, like you are.” Jimmy clung to your hand like it was his only lifeline, and Clyde’s throat caught, seized by feeling. “I never want my baby to feel afraid or different or like she’s less than anybody. And if she has a good role model, someone strong like you, maybe she won’t be so nervous.”

“We’ll come by soon.” You hunched over until you were in his line of sight and drew it upwards as you straightened. “Promise. Ok?”

Blowing out a heavy, trembling breath, Jimmy nodded and headed for the door. He wiped at his eyes, threw a ‘g’night y’all’ over his shoulder, and clicked the door shut behind him. Clyde hid his flushing face against your neck and rubbed his cheek at your shoulder. He wrapped long arms around you as tight as he could, planning to keep you trapped there forever.

“Can’t. Breathe. Killing. Me.”

He huffed a laugh and rubbed his nose to yours before standing and tossing you over his shoulder. Completely ignoring the way you playfully pounded at his low back and ass, he carried you through the house as he locked the door and turned off all the lights.

“Now Darlin’...” 

He tossed you onto the bed. Looming over you for a good, long stretch, Clyde finally settled his weight between your thighs and threaded his fingers into yours.

“I know for a fact you can hold your breath longer’n that.”


	6. Jezebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the plan was simple.
> 
> Separately, each family would meet, and they would cast any AFM believers or sympathizers out. Jimmy struggled with the idea of turning family away; but ultimately, he agreed that it was for the greater good. 
> 
> The Logan family meeting was first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy on the sexy times because I couldn't decide between sloppy blow job or cock warming... Needless to say, this is an adult chapter. lol
> 
> Also, I'm not planning to go into the intricacies of why/how Alpha-dom works. It just does, and we're just gonna go with it.

“Darlin’... nnggh. They’re gonna be here soon.”

Clyde’s fingers twitched, sliding down along the delicate curve of your neck. He already lost the war to be still because you were on your knees in the back of The Duck Tape sucking his brains out of the end of his dick.

“Mhm.”

Completely ignoring his plea, you plunged back down and swallowed his full length. Clyde sucked back the curse and tried to keep himself calm, stuck in between your expert tongue and what was coming down the road this afternoon.

The first part of the plan was simple.

Separately, each family would meet, and they would cast any AFM believers or sympathizers out. Jimmy struggled with the idea of turning family away; but ultimately, he agreed that it was for the greater good. Clyde only had to remind Jimmy once that Sadie would be a target for the AFM, too.

The Logan family meeting was first.

Clyde spent the entire morning a nervous, irritated wreck. He didn’t enjoy shoving off his family any more than Jimmy, but he hated more that some of them would harm you just for being you.

His brooding kept him from speaking to you or sharing how he felt. He was just so lost in his head that he cleaned, paced, and cleaned some more. He stocked shelves in the office, washed every peanut bowl he could lay hands on, and generally prevented himself from being still for a single second.

When you ordered him to sit down in the back corner, he tried to argue, but you shut him up quick with an ardent kiss and a bite to his lower lip. ‘Stop talking’ was all you said; and before he could process it, you were between his legs, bobbing on an erection he didn’t remember being there.

It was hurried, messy, demanding, and the sounds were downright pornographic. Each slurp curled his toes. He sputtered incoherently because his brain wanted you to slow down so he could enjoy it, but his body positively delighted under the weight of your will. You didn’t care that he wasn’t ready. You didn’t care that he wanted you to slow down. You wanted his dick, his orgasm _now._

“Alpha, I’m gonna…”

The knock on the door rattled him so much he yelped, launching off of the couch back to sit ramrod straight. He wriggled beneath you because someone banging at the door didn’t phase you at all. Instead, you slipped a hand under his shirt, sunk your nails into his chest, and pushed him back into the cushions.

His guts clenched because he dreamed of moments like this for years, when his Alpha would take him, use him whenever and wherever she wanted. He was liquid for it.

Your strong, sure fingers tightened around the root of his dick, and Clyde groaned, wrapping his leg around your hip to pull you closer. It was all he could do to not buck his hips up into your hungry mouth.

“Godohgodohgodohgod.”

Tears stung his eyes. Fire burned under his clothes from collar to cowboy boots. He didn’t hear the second knock at the door; all he heard was the hammering of his heart. Unaware that he’d even done so, both hands locked around your head to hold you in that sweet spot, that tantalizing, delicious, so fucking warm spot.

The orgasm barreled down his body, a bullet with your name on his tongue. It tore through him mercilessly. It shredded any self control he had, bouncing his shameless, begging moans off the wood paneling. It jolted through his bones and caused every muscle to jump painfully. His toes ached, his knees shot together around your head, and he was strangled by his own plea.

But then, bliss.

Heat and relief and gratitude flooded in as his dick emptied at the back of your tongue. His bones jellied, and his torso heaved with staccato breath. Sucking hard on the recoil, you dragged a loud growl from the very center of his being and tacked on a shuddering aftershock with that loud, lewd pop.

Not finished with him yet, you threaded both hands into the raven hair at the base of his neck and tugged him into a sticky kiss, your lips tart with his taste. It was the kind of kiss he begged the Almighty for only a few months ago.

“Feel better?”

You rubbed your nose against his gently, affectionately, and Clyde turned 10 different shades of red. He had been so wrapped up in his head, so worried and anxious; but now, he only felt you and your profound knowledge of what he needed. He felt loose, pliant, sated.

“Mm,” he nodded, seeking that center of his world, forehead to forehead. “M’sorry, Alpha.”

Sorry for shutting you out. Sorry for not asking for help. Sorry for being scared and edgy and unsettled.

“Hush.” You stroked his face and kissed his chin. “Ready?”

Setting his jaw, Clyde squeezed your wrist and looked towards the door. He took a deep breath.

“Ready.”

It was a long and arduous meeting. Jimmy was still new to leading a family, and he wanted to explain and reason and persuade. He even told the family that Sadie, everyone’s wonderful, lovely Sadie, was an alpha. He was so certain that Sadie would change hearts and minds. He was so sure that he wouldn’t have to shut any of his family out.

But even that beautiful, flaxen-haired girl couldn’t change some folks’ stripes; and ultimately, Jimmy had to find the courage within to order those who wouldn’t come around to leave. He had to cast out his own kin and order the rest to cut all ties with them.

He had to learn how to use his Alpha voice.

There was not a dry Logan eye in the room.

The next day found Clyde at your aunt’s house, his long body folded into a little brown recliner in the corner and his dick buried deep in your narcotic pussy.

Deciding that it would be better for the meetings to happen quickly so word couldn’t get too far out, you’d called your clan to the same place Clyde had met them all the first time. He grew more and more restless as it neared because he knew, he absolutely _knew,_ that Roy would be here.

To say derogatory things about you. To yell or scream at you. To challenge you.

Clyde pressed his burning face into your shoulder and bit back a whine. People had begun to file in 10 minutes ago, and you’d sat right there on his lap, on his cock, with your pretty skirt fanned around the both of you to conceal your ploy.

It took all of his willpower to not wrap his hands around your hips and bend you over the sofa arm.

You were pretty as a picture, though. Calm. Collected. Every bit the put-together leader a family should have. It was almost as if his dick didn’t affect you at all; but when he flexed inside of you, you rewarded him with a clench so tight he choked on his tongue.

“Y’sure are a devious woman, Alpha.”

He muttered it into your shirt, rubbing his lips against the soft fabric. As long as he was concentrating on not pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t concentrating on the million different ways he would murder your cousin.

A seductive smirk danced on your lips. You leaned into his chest, tilted his face up, and looked at him in such a wicked, endearing way. You tightened around him again with an ever-so-subtle shift of your body. And then again. And again. Your thighs squeezed in a sinful rhythm until Clyde nearly combusted.

It was the most intimate, purposeful fucking Clyde ever experienced in his life, and he thought he would die on the spot.

But then, all hell broke loose.

“Y’all are gonna let this Jezebel lead our family?”

Roy’s bellowing carried through the open house, and all activity stopped. Hell, it looked to Clyde that they even stopped breathing. All desire fled from his body, replaced by this insatiable need to end this man’s life. Readying for the fight, he shifted uncomfortably, dislodging from your calming core.

He was so angry all he could do was tighten his grip on your skirt and try to not weaponize the closest thing he could find.

“This.. this... traitorous Eve?” Roy stopped in the very center of the room, hands on his hips, and leaned _at_ you aggressively, though he stepped no closer. “This daughter of Satan? That’s what they are, and y’all know it! Alpha _females_ are agents of the enemy!”

Throughout your cousin’s tirade, you kept your eyes on Clyde; and when he noticed it, Clyde mashed his lips together into a tight line. The self-control you had stunned him every time. Hoping he could get to even a fraction of that, he bit down on his cheek and nodded.

Pleased with his newfound composure, you pressed the softest kiss to his cheekbone and turned to look at Roy. A long, uneasy silence hung between you, which Clyde used to discreetly right himself and his clothes.

“D'you wanna lead this family, Roy?” Gasps and mutters made an odd refrain around the room. Roy, himself, stuttered to silence, but you carried on before he could answer. “Y'want the 4 a.m. calls when Molly doesn’t have anybody to watch the baby? Wanna drive old Uncle Phil to all his appointments?”

You slid from Clyde’s lap and halved the distance between you and your idiot cousin in seconds.

“Y’wanna sit up with the dead? Want to be here, in this house, for every birth, every illness, every marriage? Wanna hear last confessions as your loved ones prepare to meet their maker? That's what bein' alpa is.”

Roy shrank with every idea. He hemmed and hawed. He scratched at his arms; but when he realized everyone stared at him, he exploded and threw his hat at the wall.

“Dammit! I would if I had to! As long as it ain’t _you_. Bringing that damnable filth into our home! Paradin’ around here like you’re too good for regular folk, like you’re better’n our alpha men!”

 **“Stop.”**

You never even raised your voice, but Clyde felt socked in the chest. He could tell the rest of your family did, too. He reckoned you didn’t use that particular cadence often. 

**“How many of you agree with him? Stand.”**

Your Alpha voice was music, church choirs, and it reverberated off of his bones. Fire boiled his blood, and he was instantly hard, ready to be pleasing in every physical way he could. To a lesser degree, your family felt it, too — the compulsion to obey, the call to answer.

Tensing both hands into furious fists, he looked around the room as a handful of your kin stood, all of them averting their eyes. Too cowardly to even look up.

How could this be? How could they know you and still believe this idiot was better? Clyde was just about to stick his foot in his mouth and tell them they ought to be ashamed of themselves when the next tidal wave hit.

**“Family, do you want this man to lead you?”**

Louder, the answers came. Some shouts. Some curses. It was a raucous chorus, a resounding no. Roy turned redder by the second. His hands balled up, knuckles white with anger, and the tick in his jaw foretold something dangerous. His arm raised threateningly, aimed directly at you.

Clyde remembered how that man held a gun on you, and his vision faded fast to vendetta. He was a fraction of a second from shooting out of his chair.

Just as he was about to strike, you broke through the din.

**“Outside.”**

Clyde held his breath with all the others. You stood tall and proud, not intimidated by this filth in the least. You radiated righteous conviction. He’d never seen someone so assured of their course.

Two of them sputtered objections even as their bodies dragged them back and away, shuffling backwards step by step. Roy wanted to have the last word, but he couldn’t stop the obedience his very DNA compelled him to. As much as he wanted to challenge you, to prove himself right, he simply wasn’t strong enough. He never would be.

Following, you stopped on the outside of the threshold, filling the doorway. Slowly, your hard stare roved from one to the other, casting judgment until you came to Roy, who stopped dead in his tracks.

 **“You will leave.”** A sharp cry broke out from one defector, one who hadn’t ever thought you would turn him out. **“I turn my back on you, Roy. On all of you. You are not my family. I am not your Alpha.”**

As the gavel fell, Clyde watched the separation take hold of the outcasts. He could hardly imagine what it felt like — suddenly feeling so alone when you’d always felt so connected. A vacancy in the wake of the bomb.

“THIS AIN’T OVER!”

Roy’s heart-broken, furious shout cut short as you physically did what you warned. You turned your back to the small group, walked into the family home, and shut the door.

Silence hung heavy. It was as though someone died. Roy’s mom wept. Lee glared daggers out the window, waiting for the little crew to leave. Your Mamaw, seated right inside the door, tucked her aged hand in yours and squeezed.

Hardly visible, you trembled. Clyde could see the feelings roiling just under the surface, and his heart cracked. Being across the room, he waited for your gaze, knowing it would come. And when it connected, his brow furrowed at the pain he saw etched into your beautiful features. He promised himself he’d kiss every single worry away just as soon as he could get you alone.

“I…” The catch in your throat prompted Clyde to swallow hard, as though he could fortify your vocal chords himself. “We will not hide anymore, family. I’ll not have any of us feeling like we’re less than or that we should be afraid.”

Just like with his family, the meeting was difficult and lengthy, but it wasn’t the same. The harsh part was over in the first 10 minutes. Instead of trying to get your family to agree, you sat in the very center of the room for hours while they cried, while they told you how scared they’d always been, while you shared the plan with them.

As it went on, he saw that this part was hard for you, too. Listening to your family tell you about their fears and knowing that you’d carried on the same patterns as the other Alphas wore on you. You promised them all that it was a different time now, that you would do better.

It was killing him to not be closer; but until the very last person left, he kept his distance. He didn’t want any of them thinking this was about him, even if it was a little. Even your aunt, so devastated by her son, left her home and went with your Mamaw.

With nothing else to do and nobody else to listen to, you dropped your face into your hands and cried, curling inwards as though to protect your wounded heart.

There was no one to hear your anguish but Clyde.

The sound gutted him, shot pain through his ribs and twisted his lungs. To hear you in such agony was physically devastating. He poured out of his chair and onto his knees, crawling the little way to where you sat on the ottoman. Tugging your arms free, he guided them around his shoulders and wrapped his about your middle as tight as he could.

“M’so sorry, Darlin.” He pressed his lips into your neck, sweeping soft kisses across your pulse. “M’sorry you had to do that.”

Clyde’s mouth trailed up to your jaw and along its curve. His good hand rubbed down your back to wrap around your ample hip. He wanted to comfort you, to be as strong as he’d watched you be. But soon, his gentle caresses became feverish. His body, his heart burned to take away the tears and exchange them for something good.

“C’n I make you feel better, Alpha?” He nuzzled your cheek and licked at the corner of your mouth, his need to please you taking over. “I can if y’let me.”

“I don’t wanna think for a little while, Clyde.” Your watery eyes and wobbly lips drove him to a state he wasn’t sure he could describe. “Can you do that?”

“Sure can.” He nudged the tip of your nose with his. His lips tugged up at one corner, amusement glittering in his eyes. “Ready?”

Finally, thank God finally, a smile tugged at your mouth at the memory of you switching off his brain yesterday. It was the perfect bookend to the last two days. At the beginning of all this, you’d taken him over and shut out the world. And at the end of it, he would do the same. He’d blot out the sun for you if it meant you’d turn those pretty lips up like you just did.

He basked in the victory for only a moment before swallowing your very breath on a fierce kiss. The surprised squeak delighted him, and Clyde tangled flesh fingers in your hair to tip your head. Starved for your taste, he kissed you until he couldn’t breathe, until you fisted both hands in his shirt to hold on. 

Your breathy moans spurred him on, igniting such an urgency he tore open the back of your skirt and tossed away the remnants. He lifted you from the seat only long enough to shove it away; and then, he was down on you, between your legs, pinning you to the carpeted floor.

Before, he had been afraid to hurt you, but he just watched you stand firm for your loved ones, do something he knew he’d never have been able to do. Now, he understood you could, would, withstand anything. It was this kernel, this burgeoning notion that drove his teeth into your shoulder forcefully, that prompted him to tear away your shirt so he could sink them into your breast.

Each shriek and wail made him harder, made his mouth water. He sucked dark bruises into your neck and clawed at your sides with both hands; the metal leaving deep trenches instead of nail tracks. He heard it then — a pitiful sob at the end of a deep shudder. Leaning over you, he watched the emotion and hurt build, but some part of him knew you needed this, needed to get it all out so you could move forward.

You couldn’t have possibly been any more perfect than you were under him like this, flushed and shaking, kiss swollen and drenched in tears and sweat.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He growled it into your ear before claiming another bite of your supple skin. He wanted to cover you with his hickies, to show everybody you’d let him do it. Tearing his pants open, Clyde hitched one of your legs up higher and rocked his hips into you, breaking that sticky barrier on a groan.

Not bothering to be gentle, he wrapped his metal hand around your hip and wrenched you down as he slammed upwards, forcing your body to accept all of him at once. He inched closer to completely unraveling at the mix of cries and whimpers falling from your lips.

On the left, he held you firmly in place; and on the right, he wrapped hot, trembling digits around your throat and squeezed until your fingers dug into his back.

“This what y’wanted, Darlin’?”

Clyde threw himself into you, crashing against your willing, writhing body, and you rewarded him with such an indecent moan he almost came too early and ruined the whole thing. His fingers flexed and pinched tighter, tamping down any sound you made to little more than a hiccup.

As it was, he didn’t think he would make it much longer; but when he felt your arms and legs tense, his pride kept him going.

“Shit, that’s it.” His jaw clenched and teeth ground. “So fuckin’ tight.”

Your entire body contracted, knees drawing up higher, head and shoulders curling towards him. Clyde’s hips never stopped pistoning; and on each pass, he swore he sunk further and further into your clutching cunt. Drunk on you, on every delirious squish of your pussy, he lost control of the things that came out of his mouth.

Y’feel so goddamn good…  
Fuckin’ pussy drives me crazy…  
Gonna fill you so full you can taste it…  
Told ya I’d make y’feel better…  
Cock’s for you, only for you...

You gouged at his back and twisted under his grip, arching into him and straining towards that high. He saw the very second your body broke open, watched your face crumple as the orgasm surged through you. Fat tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, your lips quivered on the emotion, and your pussy delivered him a hot new wave of slick.

Clyde didn’t think he should be so turned on by you crying at the end of his dick, but it was the best damn thing he ever saw.

And even though he was the one trying to make the world go away, you obscured everything around him, infusing the very air with your spicy scent. Your body wrung him for all he was worth, and he spilled into your volcanic core so suddenly his sight went out. Everything was bright white, and a freight train roared in his ears.

The only sure thing he could make out was that you still wept, still quaked against him, spending that last bit of emotion. Easy, gently, Clyde's lips ghosted along your jaw, where he murmured every tender, loving thing he could think of and hoped the vibration of his chest would help soothe you.

“Th-thank you.”

He lifted his head at your raspy words. Your face still quivered, but you nodded when he met your gaze, letting him know you were ok after that hurricane. Kissing away some of those tears, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Let’s go home, Darlin’.”

“Which one?” Your chuckle made him smile.

“Whichever one you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really surprised that a story that feels as complex as this is coming out of my brain. So, thanks for coming on this ride with me. :)


	7. Red Mile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde lost track of how long you stayed like that, snug against the wall, watching the sun set behind the mountain. You passed the time by quietly talking about life, history, and memories, keeping your voices low as though you might disturb the trees or the squirrels. He told you more about Jimmy and war and the bar. You told him all about Mamaw and your father and growing up at the end of a little dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
> 
> He never felt like people understood him — an omega, an outsider — but you did. Though there were more alpha women in your family than he’d heard of in his entire life, you all were still outsiders to everybody else. It was this kinship, this sameness, that had him swallowing the lump in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very personal to me, and I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story is unfolding in a way I never expected it would, but it gives life to real things for me.
> 
> Also, I'm very much in the mood for 'firsts' lately. Sue me.

_ ♬ On the bluuuuue side of the mountain  
_ _ Where the suuuun don’t ever shine ♬ _

Clyde smiled at your singing, big and bright, even as he gripped his legs with each sharp turn you made. You knew the way home, you told him, better than you knew anything else in life. This was your mountain, you said; these were your roads.

The second part of the plan comprised information gathering, and it found a caravan, a blend of family members, speeding through the mountains together, making what had to be record time from The Duck Tape to the end of the holler where your Mamaw lived.

Because you drove like the goddamn Dukes of Hazard.

Blessedly, you slowed, though only slightly, as the road narrowed and narrowed again. It turned from well-kept, dark asphalt with bright yellow painted lanes to worn, bare concrete to settled, dusty gravel to outright dirt. At each exchange, you inched that much farther from civilization, city life. And the further you drove into the forest, the more you came alive. It tugged at his heart how you danced and sang, how you lifted your hand out of the open window to let your fingers dance in the breeze, how you pointed out how someone in each house you passed was kin.

On and on it stretched, and he wondered just how far this dirt road would go. Catching your glee, he rolled his window down to let it all barrel in. Trees and flowers crowded around the car, flooding the interior with the sounds and smells of untouched nature. Clyde brushed his fingers through dandelions and tall, hearty chicory.

Listening to you sing, feeling the clinging dew on fat maple leaves, he felt like this was the sort of perfect moment he’d prayed for so many times. He seemed to have a lot of perfect moments lately.

At the very end of that dirt road, when a car could simply drive no further, a little yellow house came into view. Hanging flower baskets and large pots of vibrant this-and-thats decorated the wraparound porch. Around one corner, he could see the edge of a sprawling vegetable garden, calling up memories of his own grandmother and the way she fed his family from her own backyard farm.

It was country life, through and through.

Out in front of the house, Lee directed the group into oddly angled parking spots, and Clyde guessed that your Mamaw never had this many visitors at once out this far. As he exited the old, green Camaro, called ‘The Beast’ you playfully informed him, Mamaw stepped out onto the porch and waved.

He suddenly felt so enmeshed in your life. In such a short time, he felt like this place, this beautiful hidden treasure, was part of himself, something he didn’t know he was missing until he found it. Glancing over, he wondered if you felt the same. Did you feel tangled up in him, too?

Together, the group filed inside; and one by one, your Mamaw hugged everyone, kin or not, and sent the lot into the kitchen for something to eat. When she got to him, Clyde swore she hugged him just a bit longer, just a little tighter than the others. Patting him on the shoulder affectionately, she pushed him further into the house.

“No business ‘fore eatin’. Go on.”

The Logans, never ones for missing a meal, packed themselves around Mamaw’s round turquoise kitchen table. It was packed to the very edges with white porcelain bowls filled with green beans, corn bread, fried potatoes, roast chicken. Little platters of cheese and butter tucked into the center of the massive spread.

The room was soon a mixer of boisterous moaning and cheering each time they tried something new. Joe Bang got up and planted greasy, sloppy kisses to each of Mamaw’s cheeks, flat out gushing over her and the food she’d made, which made her blush and swat at his arms even though Clyde could tell she was pleased.

“Nobody cooks like a Granny,” he said, plopping back down into the chair for another heaping plate.

Hidden in the corner, you wrapped both arms around Mamaw’s slender shoulders and leaned back into the kitchen counter. Only slightly taller, you rested your head against hers and watched the boys plow through and compliment the meal with a similar twinkle in your eyes. Feeding folks was just as much in your blood as it was hers. It's what you did when company came over, no matter who called or when they came calling.

“Alright, y’all.” When the bowls were empty and glasses drained, you cut through the din, shooing people out of the kitchen. “Business don’t handle itself.”

The house itself was compact, cozy, and Clyde felt like a giant inside it. Mamaw was a short woman, and it seemed like they built the house around her. He had to duck moving from room to room so he wouldn’t hit his head on the doorways. He didn’t think the living room would hold everybody; but amazingly, there were plenty of seats and more than enough room for everyone to stretch comfortably.

“So, what is it we’re here to do?” Jimmy eased himself into a chair near the door between Joe Bang and Lee.

“Can’t have a boycott,” Mamaw said, pulling a basket of beans into her lap, “Without someone to boycott.”

Rounding the corner, you sunk into the couch cushions next to Clyde, folded your legs underneath you, and opened what looked to be an old coal miner’s lunch pail. From inside, you pulled out one tiny notebook after another.

“Y’all wanted to find out what businesses were owned by AFM folks, right?”

Plundering a pile of reds and blues, you sorted through for something particular and tossed a red notebook across the room to Lee, who flipped open to a random page and leaned over so Jimmy could see the pencil scribbles. Watching you quietly, Clyde wondered how you could tell what you were looking for.

“Mamaw here’s been keeping records longer’n any of us been alive.” You passed another notebook to Clyde. “She knows who all the AFM people are around these parts. Probably knows ‘em from other parts, too.”

Jimmy flipped through page after page, lifting the thing closer to his face to see it better. It only took Clyde a page or two to realize the notes inside were in code, which made him chuckle. You earned trust; you couldn’t just walk in and steal it.

“How…” Joe Bang cocked his head to one side, gesturing to the stack of books. “Mamaw, how’d you come to know all these people?”

“And why keep track of it?” 

It was Jimmy's question; but as he asked it, Clyde realized there were two sets of notebooks. One set, the red set, floated around the room. Another set, a blue set, nestled up against your knee.

Clyde didn’t miss the look you shared with your brother. Or the look shared with Mamaw. He chewed the inside of his cheek and held his breath, waiting for whatever it was you didn’t share with normal folks. Aiming for patience, he brushed his knuckle along your bare thigh, taking comfort from what he could get to at the hem of your flowery dress.

“We uh... we charge ’em more,” Lee said, tossing the notebooks back to you. “That's how we meet 'em and that's why we keep track.”

Expecting the next question, you looked at no one in particular. He could tell you waited for some kind of outburst, some kind of judgment.

“Darlin’?”

Whisper quiet, he leaned a bit to catch your eye, wanting to let you know he was here. He’d never judge you for anything in the world, and he wanted to make sure you knew that. Meeting his eye, the barest hint of a smile swept across your lips, and you touched his cheek, silently communicating that you were just fine.

“Charge ’em more? For what?” It was Jimmy who asked what everyone was thinking.

Your shoulders lifted on a deep breath, and you looked Clyde square in the eye. It was your way, he knew, of giving him the choice of staying, of choosing this, of choosing you, after whatever it was you would say.

The way you had been since the very first night.

“Red Mile.”

Clyde’s eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. In all the things he thought you might say, he never expected that.

“Wait. Wait.” Joe Bang waved his hands in the air dramatically. “Y’er tellin’ me that y’all make Red Mile? Red Mile. The moonshine.”

Joe looked from you to your brother to Mamaw; and after the last of you nodded, he jumped up with a whoop, clapping his hands excitedly.

“I TOLD YOU I liked her!”

A chuckle broke across your lips at his hoopin’ and hollerin’, and Clyde was grateful for the lift in your spirits, but his mind was still burning through the fog of memory a mile a minute. Picked her up at her job, Lee said. Only go after gals they know are alphas; charge ‘em more, he said.

“So, when they took you, you were…” His question trailed off because he was still piecing it together. Moonshining wasn't a business a person advertised. Hell, he wasn’t sure why you were telling him or his brother. Clyde knew Roy sold you out to the AFM; but somehow, this was worse.

“Makin’ a delivery.” You nodded, looking back to him. “Other side of Rowdy Mountain. There’s only four people knew I'd be on that road.”

Clyde’s shocked stare darkened with fury, contempt. The AFM could have easily chosen not to snatch you or drug you. They could have killed you, shoved you down a ravine or some cliff-face, and nobody would have been the wiser.

And he’d have lost you forever. Before he even got to have you at all.

“Jimmy,” your beautiful eyes flitted away, but you let Clyde cling to your hand as though it was his only link to the world, “If I get you a list, could you check with Moody to find out who on there owns local businesses? He’s on the council, right? We could get a boycott started.”

Mamaw smiled when he nodded, and you powered on, forging the path for everyone.

“We’ve stopped supplyin’ the AFM and any sympathizers. Joe Bang, any potential new customers you could send our way from your neck-a-the woods would be much appreciated. And Clyde,” you shifted, turning his way. “If you’re comfortable, we’d like you to stop servin’ these folks in the bar, too. But that decision is yours.”

His eyebrows drew together tight. He reached for your hand and shook his head, locking his stare on your pretty face. It wasn’t even a question.

“Of course, Darlin’.”

I’ll close the whole damn bar for you, he thought. 

10 minutes later, the meeting was done, adjourned for more matter-of-fact things. Joe Bang couldn’t contain himself and begged Lee to take him to the still; Jimmy said he needed to get back to Sylvia; and Mamaw left to tend to the garden, patting his shoulder again as she went by. Then, it was just you and him in the quiet.

Unable to wait a damn second more, Clyde pulled you into his arms, draped your body across his lap, and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled deep, drawing you as far into his lungs as he could. He blanched at the mental picture of you alone and broken on a creek bed somewhere. All because of some misguided notion of what makes a man.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you murmured soft nothings to him and stroked his head and neck until his grip about your middle eased, until his anxiety lessened enough for him to think.

“C’mon,” your voice buzzed against his jaw, “Let’s go for a ride.”

Back inside the Beast, you turned the radio on real low and, somehow, turned that brute of a car onto a path he hadn’t noticed before, escorting him even further into the mountain. The winding, bumpy road was scarcely big enough for a single car, but you navigated around one bend after another with ease, never once minding the steep grade that made Clyde’s palm itch nervously. At the base of some kind of steel frame, you pulled to a stop and dug a blanket from the backseat.

“What is this place?”

He followed you from the car to a fairly rusty staircase winding upwards and around what appeared to be some kind of tower. You reached back for his hand, tugging him onto the first step. He hesitated because, whatever this was, it had been here for a long, long time, and he was far from assured of its safety.

“Old fire tower. You’ll like it. Promise.”

Four stories straight up in the air, you climbed with him in tow. He gripped the banister fretfully tight and kept his eyes locked on the generous curve of your hip, reminding himself over and over that you’d never bring him up here if it wasn’t alright. Or to toss him over the railing. At the summit, he ducked into the small hut and glanced over his shoulder at the way he’d just come.

Stopped in his tracks, Clyde stared, flabbergasted.

Suspended up here in the air, he could see for miles and miles. He could see mist clinging to tree tops, see the sun just beginning to dip down. There wasn’t a single other house or other building as far as he could see, not even a hint of anything human. On instinct, he inhaled the cleanest, crispest breeze. He gaped, trying to figure out which vantage he liked best.

“Darlin’, this is…” He didn’t have words. This was something people just didn’t get to see. You snuck under his arm and settled your back against his chest, folding his arms around yourself.

“Used to come up here when we were kids. Throw rocks off the side.” You smiled at the memory. “Then as teenagers. Drinkin’ and carryin’ on. Lee fell off the second story one night from too much smoke.”

You lay your head back against his shoulder, angling it enough for him to sweep kisses along the length of your neck and lick at your pulse, but he returned, again and again, to the breathtaking view. It was like a painting, gauzy and exploding with blues and greens.

“I’ve never brought anybody here before.”

As the importance of those words settled, he tightened his embrace, rocking slightly and wanting nothing more than to imprint himself on every inch of your skin so you’d never regret sharing something so special with him.

Clyde lost track of how long you stayed like that, snug against the wall, watching the sun set behind the mountain. You passed the time by quietly talking about life, history, and memories, keeping your voices low as though you might disturb the trees or the squirrels. He told you more about Jimmy and war and the bar. You told him all about Mamaw and your father and growing up at the end of a little dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

He never felt like people understood him — an omega, an outsider — but you did. Though there were more alpha women in your family than he’d heard of in his entire life, you all were still outsiders to everybody else. It was this kinship, this sameness, that had him swallowing the lump in his throat. Watching you light the oil lamps, he threw himself off of the metaphorical cliff, needing to ask you this question no matter how embarrassed he might be.

“Alpha, c’n I ask you something?”

“Sweet thing,” you looked quickly over your shoulder at him with a wink, adjusting the flame on the lamp in your hand, “You can ask me everything.”

Toeing the ground, eyeing an engrossing speck of dust, he tried to be calm. He hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets and chewed his lip. He’d been dying to ask you this for weeks now, but he could never work up the nerve. It was ridiculous, something he surely should already know.

But you can’t know what you don’t experience.

“Is it..” Fumbling, he cleared his throat. “Is it true that alphas can a-arouse or...hm..orgasm omegas with just their voices?”

Beet red but in too deep to stop now, he focused on his boots and stammered.

“I’ve heard it said before, but you never know if it's true or if it's just bar talk. And I didn’t really think I’d ever find out. But you...you could tell me. If you want? If you know?”

He worried his lower lip when all he got in response was silence. Agitated, he looked up to find you watching him, hungry and calculating. He gulped in anticipation with just a twinge of worry. That look in your eye promised indecent things.

“I dunno, doll.” You advanced a step, cocked your head, and reached out to tug on one of his shirt sleeves. “Is my voice...  **arousing** ?”

Sweet thing. Beautiful. Doll.

Already blushing from his question, Clyde turned bright red from nose to ears at the pet name. You called him things he’d only ever heard said to girls, and it  _ did _ something to him. Coupled with the different intonation of your alpha voice, he plummeted headlong into the shy, awkward boy of his youth instead of the man he’d worked so hard to become. He sputtered and shuffled his feet, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and looked every which way but right at you.

**“Answer me, Omega.”**

Your voice hovered a smidgen above a whisper, but it blew the top off of his mind and coiled into his empty skull where thoughts should be. Clenching his fists, Clyde chewed his cheek and blinked the blurry away. He glanced at you briefly but let his eyes dart away on his nod, his admission.

**“Out loud.”**

He didn’t whimper until he felt the gentle press of your fingers at his chin, turning his face; but when he did, it was a pained sound, drug up from the very soles of his feet. You tipped his head until his fiery gaze connected with yours, and the world went dark. The bubble he often imagined existing in with only you became real. He couldn’t see anything other than the glittering churning of your eyes, the hunger there. There was no sound beyond the thundering of his heart, beating faster and faster and faster.

“Yes,” he breathed it out, barely able to make words, “It is.”

**“Feeling hot, doll?”** You untucked the tails of his shirt and eased open one button. **"Hm?"**

Slowly, deliberately, you undid his shirt, punctuating each query with another button undone. He nodded along, ready to agree with any and everything you would ever say if you just kept on talking like that. Suddenly, his tongue was too thick to work, and his clothes were too tight. He sweltered, suffocating inside fabric that shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be keeping his body hidden from you. But when he lifted his hands to peel it back, you swatted them away.

**“Ah-ah. Tell me how you feel.”**

His knees nearly buckled. He had to reach out and hold your shoulders to keep from falling. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard your alpha voice, but it was the first time you directed at him this way, the first time you used it to unravel him, and it was working too well.

“Ho-hot.” He swallowed twice to get his mouth to do anything but salivate. “Feel like m’gonna burst into flames.” You dragged a finger under the waistband of his pants, and Clyde shuddered so hard his teeth clacked. “C-cold. You’re too…” Even his lips tingled as the shivers took root and rattled him from stem to stern. “Too far away.”

You stepped in close, leaning your chest into his and dragging against it tantalizingly as you lifted onto your toes. When your breath tickled his ear, he lost his balance and landed hard against the wall. Sweat beaded at his temples; he could feel a lone drop of it run down his back. 

**“Is that better?”** You licked at his salty skin and settled yourself right against him so he could feel every word roll through your torso.  **“What else, sweetness? Y’hard for me?”**

Feeling punched in the chest, a strangled whine slipped past his trembling lips and into your hair. You’d wrapped him up in rapture so completely, tuned his entire body to your whim, that he hadn’t even thought about his dick until you mentioned it. Oh, but now that you had, it was all he could focus on.

“Alpha, please.” 

He pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck, trying to hide how hopelessly gone he already was. He couldn’t remember ever being this hard, even through his recent rut. He felt longer, thicker, heavier — all things he could put to good use for you if he could just concentrate. He bit back a moan because his erection strained and jumped, feeling two sizes too big for his actual dick. He felt the throb into his tonsils the way he did when he was young. 

He was sure he could feel the pulse of his cock even in the knuckles of his prosthesis.

It was torture to have you against him like this, to feel like he was about to gush and not bury himself inside of you when it happened. And when you stepped away, the mournful sound he made surprised even him. He clutched at your shirt, panicked, and pushed off of the wall. You couldn’t leave now. Couldn’t leave him like this.

His relief was palpable when you didn’t dart further away. He sagged and dropped his head to your shoulder. The rational part of him thought he should try to get himself under control, but the omega wanted to wallow in the moment, to drench himself in the deliciousness of it. He wanted to wail and cry for you, twist and writhe for you.

The minute he accepted it, the very second he decided that he wouldn’t fight your wicked plan any more, the elusive scent you’d pulled from his guts that very first night infused the air. He didn’t realize it until you pressed pleased lips against his temple and hummed. He remembered that you said it was him and wondered when his feelings started seeping out of his pores.

**“Lie down, my sweet.”**

For a long moment, he couldn’t comply; he could only quake, jolted to his marrow. Limbs akimbo, he leaned into you for support, which earned him another heavenly praise. As though taking his first steps, he hobbled forward from the wall, finding the very center of the little blanket you’d thought to bring.

He thought he would collapse right here, that his legs weren’t solid enough to keep him upright any longer. And rather than struggle, rather than pretend he was the sort of man who could not be affected by you, he let it happen. He crumpled to the hardwood on a sigh, both eased and elated. He pressed his face into your hip, heated by your very proximity.

Crouching down, you took advantage of his wobbly limbs and stole his button down, his undershirt, and his belt. The frigid mountain air slithered all around him like a second skin, stealing any semblance of the warmth he’d borrowed from you. But then you were there, chasing the frost away with your body, with the way you settled right into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Profoundly grateful for you, his hands roamed from where your knees squeezed his hips tight to splay across your back. He clung to you as all manner of foolishness dropped from his mouth.  _ Say it again, Alpha. Tell me what to do. Lead me. Take me. Make me yours. _

Tucking raven locks back and away, your lips descended upon the round of his ear, licking all the way from the lobe to the very top before nipping at the sensitive ridge. Shocked and aroused beyond redemption, something broke from his chest and escaped through his voice box. It was a sound he’d never made before, something he didn’t know he could do; but when your bite came again, his entire body bucked beneath you. And whatever incomprehensible noise that was? It erupted from his core again.

It was a trill, something between a frantic wail and a pleading chirp, and it shot from him like it belonged to you, as though he had only been keeping it safe til you came calling for it. 

Instantly, he decided that he didn’t care what it was or where it came from because what happened next lit him up, thunder and lightning in his veins. Your body curved around him, tight and demanding, accompanied by a noise he’d never heard you make before either. Your chest vibrated with it, this decadent, delicious warble.

In  **that** tone. In  **that** voice.

He squirmed and swayed into you, starved for your touch. Blind with need, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, naturally offering his in return. That purr, that celestial coo, was for him. His entire body vibrated because he’d made you do that; he’d earned that from you. Instinctively, he knew you never had and never would share that with another.

He was yours, through and through.

Tears bit at his eyes, the emotion stinging, and he barely heard the wholly satisfied groan on your lips as the scent of his submission rode his sweat and slick to perfume the air. When you licked at and whirred against his gland, he heard glass shatter in his ears, felt his every nerve electrify.

“Fuck. Alpha...I need you so bad.” His hips bucked up into you. His hands searched all over your body for something he couldn’t settle on. “Need to be inside you.” A wrecked sob disappeared into your shoulder, and his begging came fast and furious in a hoarse whisper. “Please fuck me, Alpha. I’ll be good for you. Just need to feel you. Jesus, please.”

You captured all of his desperation with a fervent kiss and pushed at his shoulders until he lay back against the floor. He whinged and chirped into your mouth, lost to your tongue and teeth. He had no idea what he was holding onto, but he gripped it adamantly tight, fingers cinched strong and unrelenting. He would keep whatever part of you he had in his hands come hell or high water.

**“Stay.”**

There wasn’t enough time for him to grasp what you said before you were off of him, and a pained cry rushed out before he could coach himself to do what he said he would and be good. Pushing the heel of his flesh hand into his eye, he wept thankfully when he felt his swollen dick spring free into the cold air.

He knew he was a sticky, soppy mess inside his pants, producing more slick than he had in his entire life, but he didn’t care. His body laid out a man-sized welcome for you, showing you in every way possible that he was ready, would always be ready. 

On him again, you pressed your chest to his, whispering how fucking beautiful he was, how good he was being for you. He keened.  _ Yespleaseyes.  _ He tried, with every particle of his being, to live up to the things you said.  _ I’m good. I can be. I’m.. I’ll... _

The tightness in his belly jumped up into his throat when you sunk down on his straining cock, blocking his air and numbing his brain to anything else but the bliss of your cunt drawing him in.

He wanted to say thank you, to sing you a chorus, but all he could do was moan. He couldn’t even hold on to you like he told himself we would; his fingers, metal and flesh alike, fisted the fleece blanket. He arched up into you so forcefully his hips left the floor entirely, making you plant your hands next to his head to keep yourself balanced.

**“Mm, that’s it.”** You licked at his lips, moving against him slowly, divinely.  **“Give it to me, Omega.”**

When he understood what you asked of him, he shook his head. Fat tears tracked down the sides of his flushed face in the wake of how overwhelmed he was at the agonizing pleasure of you on him, around him, and the gnawing knowing that he would disappoint you.

“I can’t.” He looked up at you through a blurry lens, pushing both hands into his hair. “I-I-I’ve tried. It doesn’t happen.”

**“Oh, yes.”** You sat upright, lending that much more of your weight onto his cock and rocking slowly.  **“You’re almost there, Mine. Don’t think. Let go.”**

His heart crashed against his ribs because you said ‘Mine.’ It was the only thing he heard, and he latched onto it with all of his might. Though they shook horribly, both powerful hands wrapped around your hips to hold you right there while you fucked him, riding a rough pace back and forth. He lifted his head to watch your pelvis slide against his and groaned because he was buried so far inside of you he couldn’t even see his dick anymore.

It was a magic angle, that same deepness of your cunt that had him seeing stars that first night. Finding a rhythm with you, he moved and rolled his hips, relishing the quickening of your breath. He wanted desperately to make you cum, to see you satisfied; but as you did since he met you, you’d arrested his very thoughts and replaced them with your desires.

**“C’mon, sugar. Let me see you cum for me.”**

That was all it took. Seven words shot him into another stratosphere. He growled and begged in the same breath, hips working, pumping, obeying. It was an orgasm the likes of which he never even knew existed, and he felt it explode from the end of his dick on such force that he cried out. He slammed his eyes shut tight because it didn’t feel like it would end. It felt like his brain matter, his blood, his goddamn spinal fluid shot out of him and into you, and damned if that wasn’t the best fucking thing he ever thought in his life.

His staggering erection withheld through that blaze, fattening even further at the base. He pumped a few last jerky thrusts up into you before collapsing, used and spent. All he could think was that he was scorched earth; you’d burned away everything he ever thought about himself and showed him what he was capable of.

At the other side of it, when he lay pinned to the floor by you and your sonic purr, he rubbed his face against yours. Sapped of all strength, he let your soothing whispers calm his delirium. The heavy, heady smell that clung to his skin, to yours, to the bubble wholly inundated him, and he floated, weightless.

Because you were right, just like you always were.

Walls demolished, body wrung for all he was worth, he’d given you exactly what you demanded, exactly what he told you he couldn’t.

It was the last part of himself he thought he’d never get to experience.

He’d given you his first knot.


	8. Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, the fact that he stopped allowing the AFM into his bar got around to folks who avoided them, and they trickled in to see if it was true. For the past three nights, he welcomed fresh faces, people who told him how grateful they were for his place, for his stance.
> 
> The Duck Tape turned into a getaway for folks who wanted somewhere to go, to enjoy and drink and dance, without worrying if they would be safe. He could keep them safe, like he’d been doing since he was young. It filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

Drumming his fingers gently against the bar top, Clyde looked around his sleepy bar and pondered how much different things were in such a short time. The Duck Tape was stone quiet, not a single customer, and he vacillated between relief and concern.

On one hand, it was an ideal day. Patsy Cline drifted out of the jukebox, the warm sun streamed in, and you puttered around his office, singing and dancing each time a song you liked came on. On the other hand, the boycott made him nervous, although it was going relatively well. 

Clyde realized he never knew much about his customers until the boycott started. Suddenly, people he knew all his life treated him differently, stopped coming around his bar, and avoided him on the street. He looked at them differently, too, not able to reconcile who he thought them to be with what they seemed to believe.

That he was an abomination. That you were.

He was concerned for his business, too. For the first week, he lost customer after customer. When word got out that he was no longer serving the AFM or their believers, his normally steady bar emptied. It was the right thing to do, but Clyde didn’t know what he would do with himself without the bar.

Have faith, you told him when he voiced his concerns; and after that, as you said they would, things got better. Slowly, the fact that he stopped allowing the AFM into his bar got around to folks who avoided them, and they trickled in to see if it was true. For the past three nights, he welcomed fresh faces, people who told him how grateful they were for his place, for his stance.

The Duck Tape turned into a getaway for folks who wanted somewhere to go, to enjoy and drink and dance, without worrying if they would be safe. He could keep them safe, like he’d been doing since he was young. It filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

And so far, there had been no problems. No skirmishes broke out, and no flaming bottles smashed the windows. But he brushed his knuckles along the handle of the shotgun tucked out of sight. He knew to the very steel toes of his boots that if the AFM came calling, they would be angry.

Your excited shout at the first few bars of The Highwaymen tickled his lips up into a smile and drew him away from his cleaning. Tossing his towel over one shoulder, he leaned into the doorjamb and watched as you bent over his desk. He asked you to mark your Red Mile routes so he would know where to look if something happened again. It was a simple thing, but he didn’t expect it to look so appealing. Watching you openly, he traced the line of your leg and the curve of your pretty hip with hungry eyes. Glancing back to the unlocked door, the vacant bar decided for him. 

Coming up behind you, he pressed his lips against the back of your neck, wrapped his long arm around your middle, and threw away the red pen you used. He plied your throat with feather-soft kisses and walked you forward until he had you pinned between his hips and the desk. He had a hard time keeping his hands off of you before the trip to the fire tower; but since then, it was impossible. He wanted to breathe you, hear you, taste you, and he never got enough.

“Clyde Logan.” You chided on a playful grin. “You’re no better’n a teenager.”

Your entertained huff told him he’d get away with pushing your Eagles tee up over your ribs and the mark he sucked into your neck. Coiled around you like a python, he bathed your collarbone with insistent kisses as he worked at your button and zipper. 

“Mm. Prob’ly has something to do with these tight pants y’keep wearin’.”

Spinning you around, he captured your light laughter in a kiss and licked it down. He nipped at your sexy mouth until you let him in and curled his tongue along yours, grunting quietly as your saliva burst across his taste buds. He never got used to how insanely good you tasted. 

Impatiently, he pushed your jeans and panties down over your plump hips, baring the skin for him to squeeze. He all but shoved you onto the desk and lifted your legs up, not minding in the least that it laid you back flat.

“Hold these.”

Cheeky, he grinned and pushed at your legs until you took ownership of the indecent handle, wrapping your fingers around the back of one bent knee. Your skinny jeans, tangled as they were, kept your legs together, and the angle of the whole configuration pushed your pretty pussy out between your thighs. Humming against your skin, he mouthed a sloppy track down your legs that culminated in a bite to the meat of your ass.

Your surprised yelp made him smile, as did the half-hearted swat at his head. Switching sides, he did it again, relishing the pretend annoyance in your voice. In his time with you, he’d worked hard to let go of every assumption he had about alpha women. You liked his playfulness, his eagerness. You didn’t want him to be meek or eternally subservient. Nor did you want him to pretend he was smaller or less capable.

In fact, you liked his size, liked that he could wrap himself all around you and hold you down when you allowed it. You liked that he stretched and filled you and could make you forget your name. You liked that he was competent and smart, that he could decide things without having his hand held. You liked that he was incorrigible, that he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

You wanted a man, not a boy, and he strived to live up to that every day.

Clyde loved that you valued his opinion and his input, that you wanted a partner rather than a doormat. He loved that you were steadfast and calm, even when you had every right to lose your mind in anger. He loved that you accepted all of him, every emotion and clinging grasp, each new milestone he was embarrassed to cross so late in life. 

He loved that you gave him so much freedom when it came to fucking you, letting him manhandle you every which way he might want; and it drove him crazy to know you could stop him with a single word. He loved the way you tasted, loved the way you felt, and he spent more time than he ought to thinking about the next time he would be inside of you. Tongue, fingers, dick, it didn’t really matter so long as he could hear you moan, hear you say or whisper or scream his name.

“So pretty,” he whispered. 

He gazed at your pussy, amazed at how it was always ready to receive him. Knowing he only had a small window of time, Clyde pushed you up slightly higher and buried his face into that moist heaven. He purred at the taste, curling his tongue up through your labia and digging his fingers in at your side. He glanced up at your sexy gasp, but all he could see was your smooth skin and the decidedly pornographic way you perched at the edge of his desk.

His phone buzzed, and he whined, knowing it was Jimmy letting him know they were on the road. He was cutting it too close, but one taste wasn’t enough. Doubling down on his effort, he sucked at your puffy outer labia and delved into your slick channel. Your muted sound spurred him on because you tried to be quiet in case a patron came in, but he took that as a personal challenge.

Helping hold you with his metal hand, Clyde wiggled his tongue up and around your swollen, slippery clit. One, two, three flicks of his tongue tip had you squirming and mewling, and his ego soared. He eased two thick fingers into your addicting core, pumping slowly and deliberately to scoop out more of your honeyed slick for him to enjoy. 

Perfectly placed bites and lewd, slurping kisses punctuated how much he enjoyed your wet cunt. Countering your attempts at quiet, he made it all loud. Obscene gulps, sticky pops when he let go of your labia, and all sorts of pleased sounds to make sure you knew how much he enjoyed being right here. On his knees for you. Deep inside you in whatever way he could get.

He didn’t give a single damn if anyone came in or heard.

When he felt the clench of your cunt, the wicked spasm that told him you’d twist under him in a minute, he curled his fingers upwards and dragged the pads along those spots inside of you he’d learned so well. Shuddering, you finally gave up the ghost and cried out, and he practically preened when you moaned his name and thunked your head down hard.

It was a soft orgasm for a peaceful early afternoon. You didn’t scream his name, and you didn’t clutch at him like your life depended on it as you had before, but you did whimper and moan in that tender way he liked so much, and you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm to hold on as your hips rocked and worked through the tide.

Perfect.

Clyde hummed and lapped at your quivering cunt. He swallowed down your tasty tang on a satisfied sigh. He loved these intimate moments, these after-the-storm bits where you clung to him or petted him as you came down from the heavens. Nobody else got to see you this way. It was only for him, and he loved every second. 

Thinking he might have a few more minutes, he drove his fingers inside your sensitive sex for a second wave, but the front door bell dinged, and he groused out a curse. Standing, he leaned over you and pressed his trapped erection against your bare ass. Even through tacky kisses, he grumped about his brother and his perfect fucking timing. 

“Go on.” You laughed a bit at his pouting face. “Lemme finish this. I’ll be right out.”

Clyde adjusted his unhappy dick, trying to find an angle that wasn’t quite so painful. He rubbed at his face, making sure there wasn’t any lingering evidence, despite how much he preferred to leave it. Stealing one last quick kiss, he abruptly left the room before he changed his mind. 

Clyde plucked up his discarded towel, threw it under the bar, and smiled at his favorite customers. 

“Hey, Sadie-bug,” he said as he dipped his hand into the small sink to wash up. 

Clyde’s heart broke at the barely there smile his niece offered. He caught Jimmy’s eye and noted the way his brother’s lips turned down, as though he was trying hard to keep his composure. Clyde couldn’t blame him. Jimmy had no way to relate and couldn’t fix the hard time his daughter was going through. Sadie differed from most everyone she knew, even her momma and her daddy. It was clear this beautiful, normally vibrant little girl was struggling, and Clyde understood that pain all too well.

“Drink for your troubles, bug?” He slid a beer across the bar to Jimmy and leaned down a bit to catch her eye. “Ginger ale? Shirley Temple? Gin and tonic?”

Finally, she laughed a bit, and he felt a wave of relief.

“Ginger ale’d be good. Thanks, Uncle Clyde.”

Clyde finished up her drink as you came out of his office, maps in hand and clothes all put back together. He couldn’t help but smile every time he saw you, even if he knew his brother would poke fun. He also couldn’t help but ogle you, seeing as how three minutes ago you were nearly naked in there. Giving him the side eye, you popped the maps onto the bar top and looked over to his guests. You smiled at Jimmy and let your eyes linger on Sadie for a long minute.

They weren’t here for drinks. They came to see you.

Circling around, you took the stool on the opposite side of Sadie and turned to face her. Jimmy and Clyde both pretended to not watch but hung on your every word.

“Hi Sadie.” You smiled when she turned to look and offered your hand, introducing yourself with a shake. “M’sorry to be so bold, but your daddy tells me you’re having a hard time lately. ‘Cause you’re different from your friends.” You ducked a bit to keep her gaze when her eyes fell. “S’that right?”

Clyde thought he might break down because Sadie couldn’t even answer. He watched her lips tremble and her shoulders slump. He desperately wanted to wrap her up in a bear hug and make her worries go away. He couldn’t imagine what Jimmy went through. You tipped her chin up, smiling gentle and warm.

“Y’know your Uncle Clyde is different, too, dontcha?” You nodded when her gaze darted from you to him and back. “And me, too. I’m different. Like you.”

Clyde held his breath. He didn’t realize Jimmy held his, too, until Sadie sat up a bit straighter, interest showing on her face. He and his brother both exhaled long and low. Clyde cleared his throat quietly and sat Sadie’s ginger ale down as silently as he could.

“Really?” Her voice was thin, almost a whisper, but he could tell how much she wanted to believe you. His heart absolutely squeezed at the way Sadie reacted to you, at how you didn’t dismiss her hard feelings just because she was a kid.

“Really.” You nodded toward the couch in the back. “Y’wanna go talk about it?”

Clutching her glass, Sadie looked at her father, who nodded encouragingly. “Yes, please.”

Standing, you offered his niece your hand, leading her into privacy where she could speak more freely. Clyde’s eyes melted, leaking out at the corners, and he thanked the Almighty for you all over again. What would Sadie have gone through if you weren’t here? Would she have hidden like so many of the alpha women he’d met from your family? Would she have taken suppressants and pretended for her entire life? His chest tightened because he didn’t want any of that for her, and he hoped she wouldn’t have to do that now.

Mostly, he was grateful she had someone to talk to, someone like her. He knew too well how it felt to have nobody to relate to.

“I dunno what you did to deserve that woman, brother.” Jimmy tinked his beer bottle against Clyde’s metal knuckle. “But I’m sure glad of whatever it was.”

For almost an hour, Clyde and Jimmy pretended they weren’t tripping over themselves to know what was going on. Decidedly not sneaky, they kept glancing at you, leaning over to watch, and outright hollerin’ to ask if you needed anything. Fussing over your maps gave them something to do and kept them from straining to hear, at least for a while. Clyde knew how important privacy over something like this was, and he was awful glad Jimmy seemed to know it, too. But Lord, it was killing them to not know.

When Clyde thought he couldn’t handle it anymore, an alarm went off on your phone, sending it buzzing along the bar top. He didn’t want to walk over and interrupt; so, he knocked on the bar a bit, enough to draw your gaze.

“Alpha? Your phone.”

As he shook it for you to see, Jimmy came around behind the bar. Eyeballing his brother, Clyde swatted at him when Jimmy pushed him out and shooed him away from his own workspace. Your hand at the small of his back stopped him from tipping over as you slid your phone from his grasp.Sadie, looking more like the bouncy, happy girl he knew, bounded over excitedly.

“Daddy! Daddy!” She said and hopped up into his arms. “They’re goin’ to the city. C’n I go?”

“We are?” Confused and left out of the loop, Clyde felt for your hand. “S’there something you need to do, Darlin’?”

A coy smile danced across your luscious lips, distracting him from his uncertainty with thoughts of kissing you senseless. Again.

“Next time, ok sweet?” You squeezed Sadie’s shoulder affectionately. “This trip is kinda special.”

Inside of five minutes, after an unsuccessful attempt at convincing you to sneak behind the bar and let him finish what he started earlier, The Beast flew along the highway towards Charleston. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you drove, but at least he understood why now. You spent your days and nights hustling through the mountains.

Thinking about you making those runs without him turned his mood sour. More than once, he tried to talk you into letting him go with you, but you shushed him every time and reminded him that your brother was always there. He knew, of course, that you could handle yourself. Your capability wasn’t his concern, but it was his job to be with you, to keep you safe. A job he wasn’t doing, couldn’t do with one damn hand.

He often wondered if that’s why you wouldn’t take him. It ate at him more than he wanted to admit.

Not wanting his worries to darken the afternoon, especially after all the time you spent with Sadie, he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Needing contact, even if he couldn’t feel it all the way, he tucked his prosthetic hand beneath your hip and concentrated on the songs you sang and the sunlight filtering in through the window.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, the car rolled to a stop, and you traced the length of his nose with your index finger over and over. Groggy and grumbling, he leaned in to hide in the curve of your neck.

“C’mon, sugar.” You kissed his shoulder and shook him out from your bosom. “We’re here.”

Unfolding himself from the cab, Clyde stretched, squinted, and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He glanced around the packed parking lot with a furrowed brow. Under his breath, he murmured, ‘where’s here,’ but it died in his suddenly dry mouth when you tugged him closer to the building.

‘Here’ was the orthopedics clinic in Charleston.

He remembered his manners right before you got to the door and tugged you back a step so he could open it for you. The pat you gave his ass sparked a light blush, but it also eased his anxiety. He followed you inside, up the elevator, and directly to a check-in desk, wondering all the while how you knew exactly where to go.

His train of thought completely derailed when a lady in a white coat came out to his right.

“Clyde Logan?”

“Yes!” You turned towards her and tugged him and his confusion through the door. “That’s us.”

Inside the dreary consultation room, the attendant took his vitals, jotted down some general information, and slid out with a chipper smile. Tense, he paced the room, trying to find any detail that might tell him why he was here since you’d skirted every single one of his questions on the matter with a cheshire grin. You leaned against the wall, fingers tucked into your pockets, and chuckled at him. 

He was so tense that he nearly jumped when the door opened again.

“It’s Clyde, right?” A man almost as tall as him offered his hand for a shake and dropped a box and a file of papers onto the table. “I’m Chris, and I’ll be helping you through your consultation and assessment.”

Clyde stared at the man as though he spoke an alien language.

“Consultation for what?”

“You said you wanted to go on runs with me. Drive me on deliveries, ‘member?” Your affectionate voice drew his eye. Clyde’s wasn’t sure he wanted you to finish. “Need a better drivin’ hand, doll.”

Chris pulled out the prosthesis example and offered it to Clyde, whose eyes suddenly couldn’t focus on anything. Somehow, he accepted the thing and held it in his trembling flesh hand. He sunk down into the too-small blue chair with a thud and stared, dumbstruck.

“It’s called a Hero Arm.” Chris noted, taking the seat opposite Clyde. “Today, we’re going to talk about features because I can already see this is going to work out fine for you. Then, we’ll take some scans, and you’ll be on your way.”

An hour later, after all the measurements, scans, and information given, he sat on the hood of your car, bewildered. He hadn’t been able to speak for the last 15 minutes, and he was still puzzling through the thick emotion and confusion. Cutting through his reverie, you pushed his arms and knees apart and stood in between both. 

“Hey.” You slid your fingers along his jaw, stroking softly. “C’mere. Whatcha thinkin’ in there?”

“Darlin’...” He shook his head, trying to make the sentence come out of his mouth coherently. “I can’t… It’s too… How’m I gonna…”

“Hush.” You tugged on a lock of his hair until he met your gaze. “You can. It isn’t. It's already paid for.”

Clyde’s eyes went round as glossy moons.

“What? How? You didn’t.”

“I did. Not changin’ my mind either.”

He opened his mouth to object but snapped it shut hard at the look you gave him. No more arguing, your glare said. You playfully licked the tip of his nose and rubbed at his chest, right over his hammering heart.

“It’s ok.” You whispered against his cheek. “Promise I’ll let you make it up to me.”

Clyde’s insides tightened at the suggestion, and he grunted, wrapping his arms around you and turning his reddening face into your shoulder. In seconds, his discomfort at you doing something so big for him dissipated in favor of all the ways he could, would, do exactly that. Starting right this very minute.

“Any way I want?” His voice dipped low, the way you liked. “How ‘bout right here? Gonna let me show everybody how thankful I am?”

It was your turn to hum, the vibration of it a fission of delight against his lips as he punctuated each request with a kiss. He never got enough of your mouth, and he stole the opportunity to taste you again when you gasped at his fingers sliding around your ass to dip in between your thighs.

Clyde flushed, knowing his mommy raised him better than to be necking in the parking lot like some hooligan, but he abandoned the seam of your pants for the paltry fabric of his shirt anyway. He palmed at your swelling breast and didn’t care at all whether or not he should be ashamed.

When he matched a bite at your pulse with a tug on your stiff nipple, you hissed and swatted at his hands, leaning back away from his lips. You always got yourself together before him.

“Handsy. Hey now!” You fished out the car keys and smacked him again when he tried to reach for you. “Gotta get back so Jimmy can take Sadie home.”

Clyde outright pouted for the second time today, bottom lip poked out in exaggeration and everything, but he relented. Jimmy covered the bar so he could come here with you, and he would need to get home to Sylvia. 

“Alright alright.” He dropped into the passenger seat on a huff. “But I’m not gonna make it easy on ya.”

Clyde spent the entire ride back from Charleston scooted into your space, whispering into your ear all manner of indecency. Things he wanted to do. Things he wanted you to do. Things he couldn’t believe he was saying. His intent was to rile you up, to fill your head with so much lust you’d jump him as soon as The Beast rolled to a stop.

And it worked.

Too well.

Your mouth hung open in a delicious ‘o’; his dried out entirely. You panted slightly, vanilla scented puffs betraying your calm demeanor. He gulped down breath between thoughts as though he’d never get more. You shifted in the driver’s seat each time he said something particularly salacious. He positively could _not_ be still.

In aiming to wind you tight, he made an utter mess of himself. His dick was so hard he couldn’t sit comfortably, but you tutted at him when he pressed or palmed the thick bulge. He wiggled and squirmed shamelessly, trapped in this delirium of his own design.

By the time The Duck Tape came into view, Clyde throbbed everywhere, wholly reduced to a single thought. It was a need that drowned out everything else.

Need to fuck you. Now.

_Please?_

In the parking lot, he was 30 seconds away from tearing apart the inside of the car to get to you, but something stopped him. His chest seized up when he realized he didn’t recognize the two trucks parked awfully close to the front entrance, and he definitely didn’t recognize the one parked out back.

Even if he didn’t know who was in his bar, he knew why.

Clyde wasn’t concerned about Jimmy. For his entire life, Jimmy was ready, always smart in a pinch. But he was terrified for Sadie. After months of sadness, they finally had her feeling better, more hopeful. Meeting you, telling her she was safe — all unfuckingdone in one afternoon.

“Alpha, will you…” He chewed his lip, eyes darting right and left as he tried to figure out what to do. He gripped your hand and met your stare for comfort. “Will you go ‘round back and see if you can’t get Sadie? If he could, Jimmy prob’ly sent her to the office.”

He worried you’d say no, that you’d stop him since he hadn’t decided what came next. His only coherent thought was to get inside and help his brother. Instead, you did another of those million things he loved. You nodded and slid out of the cab as quietly as you could, giving him however much leeway he needed to take care of his family as he saw fit.

You were his alpha, but you weren’t the Logan alpha, and you had yet to so much as say a word that would come between him and them. If this was how he felt he needed to help Jimmy, you’d support him, and he clung to that. You’d never asked him to choose. He could be yours and theirs.

Drawing in a long breath, he got his erratic heartbeat under control and reminded himself that he would never see you again if he beat someone to death.

“Y’think you and y’er disgustin’ brother are better’n us? My money’s good as anyone else’s, and this here’s a public place. Y’er discriminatin’.”

Roy. Of all people, it had to be goddamn Roy.

Clyde let the screen door close with a bang, prompting everybody in the place to turn and look at him. He locked eyes with Jimmy, who stood behind the bar with his arms crossed around a bottle of vodka and gave him a barely perceptible nod. Clocking the room, he counted four guys he could see and figured there was one more hiding somewhere to take a cheap shot.

“This here’s my place,” Clyde said.

He knew his voice betrayed how angry he was that these fools would come threaten his family in the place he offered them sanctuary, but he didn’t give a single damn. He let that bass reverberate and hoped to hell his angry glare blistered every damn one of them. 

“And I’m in my rights to protect it, up to and includin’ throwin’ you out. Just like the sign there says. But maybe you can’t read.”

As he spoke, drawing out his words in a semblance of calm he didn’t really feel, Clyde took a few long strides in, letting his heavy boots thump against the hardwood. He leaned against the bar, making sure his tattooed flesh was noticeable, the brand on it dark and proud, the implication clear.

Roy sneered, and Clyde thought he might never get over the depths of stupidity this man could display. “That devil alpha woman ain’t here to save you, son. I suggest y’do as y’re told, little omega bastard, or call the law. See what they have t’say on the matter.”

Outside, Clyde heard The Beast roar to life, signaling that you had Sadie safe and sound. As it peeled out of the parking lot, he couldn’t help but smirk at the idiot crew pretending to be big men. He reached behind the bar slowly, catching his brother’s eye.

“Now,” he pulled the Louisville slugger from its hiding spot, “Who said anything about calling the law?”

He didn’t even give them time to register the question before he lunged forward and shoved the bat into Roy’s face, busting his nose in a single shot. Roy collapsed to the floor like the sack of worthless shit he was, and Clyde shoved the bat’s end directly into his gut. Roy kicked at his shin and tried to crab crawl away.

Jimmy hopped over the bar and threw the nearly full bottle at the man to Roy’s left, sending his head flying back and nearly toppling the largest of Roy’s crew. As the bottle crashed against the floor and exploded, Jimmy tackled his target and threw punch after punch into his side.

Ignoring Roy for the moment, Clyde shoved off the third guy who tried to grab at the bat. His hefty boot connected with the very middle of the guy’s chest, sending him sailing backwards into an empty table. Gripping the bat with his flesh hand, he swung at the older fellow. The violent arc connected with a crack and a squish, sending splatters of blood towards the ceiling.

Over his shoulder, he saw Jimmy throw a stool at the fourth crew member, stunning him so much he staggered backwards. A sharp, concise whistle drew Jimmy’s gaze, and Clyde threw his weapon over to his brother, who added another broken nose to the night’s tally. Furious, Clyde delivered another stomp to the old man’s chest. In another life, he might have second guessed it; but now, he ignored every single cough and wheeze.

That elusive fifth man came running out of a darkened corner at the sound of the old man’s garbled howling; and at the petrified look on his face, Clyde assumed this to be his boy. Roy yelled at the young man to attack, hit him, fight! But all he could do was drop to his knees and push shaking hands to the man’s chest.

“This your Pa?”

He softened his voice because the boy was terrified, clearly roped into something he didn’t understand and probably never agreed to. Watery blue eyes looked up at him, accompanied by a stuttering ‘y-yes Sir.’ Jerking his chin towards the door, Clyde took a step back.

“G’on. Get outta here. Don’t you come back here n’more either.”

Roy sputtered and backed further and further away, but Clyde’s reach was longer than he expected. He snatched up that weasel in metal fingers and drug him kicking and hollering towards the door. Jimmy nudged Roy’s accomplices to follow with the end of the bloody bat. He dragged your offensive cousin all the way out onto the wooden porch and threw him to the ground.

“Y’come back here again,” Clyde crouched down on the top step, leveling this human garbage with as even a stare and as clear a threat as he’d ever made, “There’s only one thing’ll keep me from killin’ you. And she already turned you out.”

He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much when all the color bled from Roy’s face, but he offered the man a crooked half-smile laden with enough malice for him to know Clyde’s promise was as true as they come. Roy’s goons rushed him to his feet and pushed him into a truck. All three vehicles sped off into what was actually a really pretty sunset.

For a moment, he and Jimmy stood in the quiet. It wasn’t the first time they’d confronted bullies or been in a bar fight. The plan had gone so smoothly up to now that Clyde almost believed there wouldn’t be any problems. No hitches in the git along. But he saw now how foolish that thought was, and he was afraid it would get worse before it got better.

“Brother.” Jimmy clasped his shoulder, drawing Clyde from his reverie. “Where d’you think she took Sadie?”

Across the street, headlights blinked on, followed by the loud rumble of The Beast’s engine. Chuckling, he shook his head at your clever, quick decision and sat on the steps, too tired to do anything but hunker down. You inched that menacing green car across the road far more quietly than he would have thought possible. Barely out of the open door, Sadie all but launched herself from the passenger seat and into her daddy’s arms.

Jimmy’s eyes shone with unshed emotion as he nodded at you. It was a silent thanks, an understanding between alphas that what he had in his arms was more important than anything else. His girl. His child. His family’s next generation. And you’d protected that for him.

“Y’all….” Jimmy squeezed his daughter and looked between you and Clyde matter-of-factly. “We are NEVER tellin’ Sadie’s mom about this. Right, bug?”

Rounding the front of the car, you laughed and leaned into Clyde’s side. “Betcha wish you had that superhero hand already, huh?”

Making a face, Clyde pulled you in close, hugged your sides with his knees, and set his chin upon the top of your head. Eyes closed, he waved sluggishly when Jimmy said goodnight. He was tired, his heart was heavy, and the events of the day left him exhausted — mentally, emotionally, and now physically. And not even in the good way.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, sugar.”

You rubbed the length of his spine soothingly and murmured sweet things into his Adam’s apple. He squeezed you tighter and pressed a kiss to your temple. If he wasn’t so damn tired, he’d be all kinds of ready to make good on the things he talked about earlier. Letting his chest expand as wide as it would go with a steadying breath, he nodded and pressed his forehead to yours, that favorite, special spot that was only his.

“M’not worried about what happened, Darlin’.” He rolled his lips together and swallowed down the lump in his throat. “M’worried about what comes next.”


	9. Sweet on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world blinked into focus when he got near enough to smell it. Hit with a veritable wall of pheromones, Clyde mashed his lips together tight and reached for you. Scooping you up, he brushed his nose against the collar of your shirt, one of his old flannels that flowed around you unbuttoned and loose. Skimming your spine, he hummed against your throat when it registered you weren’t wearing anything else and that your skin practically boiled.
> 
> Instantly, that feeling of being off-kilter lifted. His annoyance abated. The prickle in his arms moved south. His stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered. But it was all for you. He realized he felt wrong all day because he should have been here, beside you, inside you, and he had been too far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter entirely self-indulgent porn? Yes, it is. Am I sorry? Not in the fucking least. ;)
> 
> C/N for brief talk of pregnancy/period/kidnapping/sterilization; porny porn porn; some feels

Clyde was in a terrible mood.

Nothing went right today. He didn’t get to see you before he left for his last appointment at the orthopedics clinic. He dropped his coffee and smacked his head on the car door. He hit every single god-forsaken red light in the city.

He was a bundle of annoyed nerves, and every sound, person, and setback aggravated him more and more. On the drive home, he replayed the events of the morning. And then the previous week. And then the week before that.

Time flew by in a whirlwind of activity. He had fittings and calibrations and physical therapy for his new prosthesis. There were practice runs for the Red Mile routes with you and Lee. Lee and Moody joined the rotation of shifts at the bar, two people always working at a time in case there was more trouble. Jimmy made sure someone was always around to watch Sadie and keep her safe, which meant trips back and forth to her house, her school, the playground, and wherever else she had to go.

He passed exhausted three days ago.

On top of all that, his skin itched, his back ached, and he was goddamn starving. All he wanted to do was get home, find you, and take a nap. 

He breathed a loud sigh of relief upon finding The Beast in his driveway. Spying you seated on the front porch steps, warmth rushed up under his collar. He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. He slammed the door a bit too loud and tore up the driveway a little too fast, halving the distance with each broad step.

The world blinked into focus when he got near enough to smell it. Hit with a veritable wall of pheromones, Clyde mashed his lips together tight and reached for you. Scooping you up, he brushed his nose against the collar of your shirt, one of his old flannels that flowed around you unbuttoned and loose. Skimming your spine, he hummed against your throat when it registered you weren’t wearing anything else and that your skin practically boiled.

Instantly, that feeling of being off-kilter lifted. His annoyance abated. The prickle in his arms moved south. His stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered. But it was all for you. He realized he felt wrong all day because he should have been here, beside you, inside you, and he had been too far away.

You aroused his every molecule; and when you wrapped your legs around his middle, carded your fingers into his hair, and laid a kiss on him that singed his soul, he let himself be grateful for you all over again. Your self-control strained at the seams, pitching you into a demand he alone could fulfill. He heard it in the catch of your voice, the slightest carp at the back of your throat. He tasted it on the tip of your tongue, a lustful sweetness that made him dizzy.

It was the thing you’d waited for, the thing neither of you were sure would come.

Your first heat with him was fabricated. The cocktail of drugs pumped into you by the AFM forced it on you, and it was laced with a medicinal undertone. By the end of the second day, he could differentiate the part of the scent that was you and the part that was not. It was also longer than it should have been, stretching out for well over a week between the first night he met you and the day when you’d felt more normal.

Clyde didn’t admit his disappointment when your period presented, but he voiced his concern when the time for your next heat came and went without so much as a blip. You smiled and told him it would be fine, but he knew it worried you, too. He saw it in the way the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. There was no way to know what long-term effect those drugs would have. The AFM could very well have succeeded in their goal to sterilize you.

The possibility made him murderous.

Clyde’s rut changed, too, morphing to mimic your cycle. It rumbled low and under the surface instead of the urgent and consuming thing your abduction kicked up the first time. For little more than a day, he wrestled with the low grade longing, hiding away in his house the way he used to because there was simply too much to do.

Now, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see or hear or speak. All he could do was brace himself and cling to you.

You scratched at his scalp and pulled his hair. You nipped at his lips and swallowed every sound he made. Your kisses were harsh and hungry, all teeth and frenzy. A decadent spice seeped from your pores, infusing Clyde’s world with a manic drive to prove himself. 

The last coherent thought he had was that the unnatural heat, the fakeness of it, was a leaky bucket compared to this tidal wave. He felt the thrum of want under his fingertips, the last vestiges of willpower wobbling in the tightness of your lips. This estrus threatened to tear through your humanity and leave you a primal, feral thing.

And he would meet you there.

Cinching his arms around you tight, Clyde somehow made it through the front door and slammed the heavy wood behind him. Devil knew how he got there, though, because he never broke away from your kiss. He tipped his head for each invasion of your tongue and gazed through fluttering lashes at your flushed face with unbridled hope.

“S’ok.” He whispered it against your mouth before pressing his forehead to yours. He wanted to say something beautiful, something thoughtful and poignant, but all he managed was a plea. “Don’t hold back. Ok?”

His lips trembled, the emotion threatening to drown out the world. How many years had he waited for someone like you? How often had he dreamed of a day when his Alpha would consume him, reduce him to a thing only capable of giving? No job. No society. No thoughts. An Omega molded for pleasure, for obedience.

The way you shook spoke volumes. He could see you were conflicted, that you didn’t know what would happen if you let go. But he wanted you to do exactly that with every fiber of his being.

“Alpha, please.”

The noise you made curled his toes. Five insistent fingers dug in, pulling his head to one side and baring his neck. He held his breath, longing to wear your marks openly and with pride. Now and then, you’d sneak one under his shirt or on his abdomen, but you hid them from prying eyes. It was another way you kept him safe from people who wanted to do his kind harm. He never questioned you because he understood. Anyone could pick out an omega by the charms she wore. 

But damn how he ached for it.

His knees buckled as soon as your teeth found purchase. He barely kept himself upright and slammed his new nylon hand into the wall for balance. Not that spot, the binding promise spot, but there would be no hiding it. You latched onto him right beneath the curve of his jaw, and Clyde saw stars. His pulse thundered, amplified by your bite. The satisfied, utterly possessive sound rumbling in your chest made his head swim. 

“Mmmmine.”

He uttered his agreement into your shoulder, and you rewarded it by guiding his face to yours for a fierce kiss. Lost to you completely, he followed eagerly when you shifted to bear your own weight. He leaned into you, chasing your tongue again and again while you peeled away his button down and unbuckled his belt. Frantic, he cursed at how long it took because he wore so many frustrating layers.

Near tears, festering inside his clothes from a dick too hard, too slicked up, Clyde yelped and choked down a sob when you tossed away his undershirt and sunk your teeth into his chest. You stepped back, tugging and leading him by the handle you’d made from his flesh. Following, he cradled your head gently in his flesh hand and gaped when you looked up. The predatory shine in your eyes captivated him, as did the smudge of red across your lips.

He tangled all ten fingers in your hair, staring hard at your beautiful mouth. His eyes glossed over, and he left his body. There was nothing but this absolute knowing, this profound moment he long ago convinced himself he’d never get to have. It was here, and it was real.

Unequivocally yours, he bled for you.

Snapping back into awareness, his rut rising ravenously, he crashed his lips to yours and hooked both hands behind your thighs, hoisting you onto the dining room table. Suddenly sure of himself, he pushed his jeans down enough to free his cock, jerked your hips to the table’s edge, lined himself up, and struck.

You hissed as a delicious ripple worked its way through you. You tipped your head back and arched into his chest. Inch by inch, he stretched you wide, breaking into the inferno raging in your core. He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from embarrassing himself, but he was born to make you feel this way. He couldn’t pretend, though, it didn’t terrify him that his body would betray his determination.

As his center moved, yours dropped into that sexy cradle he loved so much. You splayed out across the table, nipples high and tight, hips on a swivel. Clyde thought he might combust. He watched your eyes drift shut and your tongue poke out to wet your lips. He watched your swollen breasts jostle with every thrust. Bowing over you, he trailed his lips along your sternum in a slow line, trying everything he could think of to stay here with you, to be good and strong for you.

“Om **eg** a.” Breathless, you clawed at his upper arms and twisted against the table. “ **Hard** er.” His body obeyed before his brain understood, ramming into you roughshod. “Fuck, that’s it. Don’t s **top**.”

In your turbulent state, you dipped into and out of your Alpha voice, but it was enough to sizzle Clyde’s insides, to electrify his every muscle and make him pulse with the compelling desire to heed.

_Harder. Don’t stop. Harder. Don’t stop. Harder. Don’t stop._

He groaned as it looped in his mind. You wailed and shouted, every exquisite sound punctuated by the slap of his thighs against your ass. A narcotic mix of your distinctive perfume and his heady surrender hung thick in the air, making his mouth water. Blind hunger took over, and he fucked you so hard the table banged against the wall and scuffed tracks into the hardwood floor.

He was so lost to the compounding pleasure of it all that he nearly didn’t hear you call his name. His pupils dilated, blown black with yearning, and his mouth hung open. His ears rang terribly, prompting ruthless, reckless thrusts so he could hear you say it again. 

Catching your ardent stare, everything changed.

Abruptly, he knew. Way down deep inside, he knew what you needed. Growing up, he thought it was about the orgasm, that it was his job to keep you satisfied during these times. But now, sheathed to the hilt in your quivering cunt and wholly given over to you, he understood it wasn’t about that. Pleasure was the vehicle for the biological drive.

Your orgasm wasn’t the point. His was; his seed was the crux of the whole thing.

A loud whine broke loose as he pieced it together. He’d let you down the first time. How much did he draw out your discomfort by being focused on your climax instead of what your body truly required? He’d been so proud of himself for all the times you came so hard you wept on his fingers and his tongue, for all the times he fucked you hoarse without cumming himself. How much agony had you been in on account of his foolishness? He knew why you hadn’t told him he was wrong. It had been the second time you’d seen him in your life.

A new kind of overwhelmed took him over. His body felt too small, too limited a container. He didn’t know when, but he’d stolen your fever, and it licked flames up all the way to his ears, skin blossoming pinks and reds. He gouged bruises into your ample hips and curved towards you like you were the sun. He growled, certain he could taste you on the tip of his tongue but licking away salty sweat instead. His cock raged. His hips collided against yours over and over and over. 

He couldn’t stop. 

“Alpha…” His voice sounded too far off and warbled. “S-say it. C-can’t.” He trembled violently, right on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. “Please. Alpha, p-please.”

**“Cum for me, Clyde.”**

Outright mewling at your angelic permission, Clyde pushed deep, deep into you, mining for even a centimeter more. His cock twitched, and he held his breath. The dam broke when you said it a second time. His voice caught in the back of his all-too-dry throat. He dug his nails into your soft skin. On a strangled curse, his body yielded, sending him reeling and draining his cock.

That purr, that Alpha melody he lived for, snuck into his euphoria to crack open his eyes. His chest heaved with ragged breath, but he fixed all of his attention on you, your satisfied whirring, and the rapid rise and fall of your torso. You vibrated in his hold. You hugged his ribs with your thighs. He thought you’d never been so pretty as this — blissed out as though his cum was an opiate.

Taking an unsteady step back, he gripped the table’s lip for a moment to gather his wits and a bit of strength. He hardly had time to steady his heartbeat, though, before you slid from the table to your knees, helping him out of his shoes and tugging his pants the rest of the way off. Your soft mouth connected with his thigh, and he choked. You kissed and licked his belly and his wide thighs, anywhere there was stickiness. Your tongue curled around the last drop of semen at the end of his dick before enveloping his half-hard length. 

“Darlin’...” 

Whatever he planned to say died on his tongue because yours slithered around his dick in a way that made his toes tingle. He didn’t think he could rebound so quickly, but he felt wrong being even this far away, felt distraight and disconnected from you in a way he hadn’t before. In a few swift passes of your magic mouth, his cock stood high and proud, ready to find your center.

The next minute, he had you bent over the table with your hungry cunt stuffed to the brim with his fat length. His teeth scraped your bare shoulder on a hiss. It occurred to him it was as vital for him to be inside you as it was for you to have him there. Unlike every other day, it mattered now what part of his body found your core. His tongue wouldn’t suffice; nor would his fingers. Nothing else would do but to feel your cervix with the end of his dick, to feel the insistent spasm of your pussy around his straining cock.

“M’gonna do better this time. Give you everything y’need.” He babbled into your neck, knowing now really wasn’t the time but unable to stop the things coming out of his mouth. Wrapping his arm around you, his flesh hand dipped between your thighs to find your sex, swollen and sticky. “Wanna feel you cum for me, though. Gotta feel it.”

His fingers found the groove between your puffy labia, the pad of his middle finger catching on your clit hood. Your hips jerked when he pressed against the sensitive nub, and that was his cue to thrust. He timed the stab of his cock with the upstroke of his fingers, reveling in each hiccup and gasp. Carefully circling your neck with his prosthetic fingers, his babbling turned lewd, hurried. You felt so goddamn good, he said. You smelled like caramel and whiskey, and he couldn’t wait to fill you with his cum again.

You twisted your fingers into the shirttails of the flannel you somehow still wore, and he damn near preened from making you feel so good you had to grab on to something, anything, and hold on. His fingers worked faster, hips pistoned harder. That clench he wanted so badly had him grinding against your ass to rub at that spot. You shot up onto your toes, and he felt it again. His slippery fingers pressed against your clit harder, quick little circles the way you liked. Dipping his face into the crook of your neck, he licked at your gland and hummed at the delicious way you whinged in response. Finding the most prominent bit, he sucked a mark into your skin right there, right at that part of you he wanted so much for himself.

You shouted a curse at the skim of his teeth. The combination of his assault finally tipped you over the edge, and he muffled his own curse by pressing his mouth into your shoulder blade. Your body seized still, your cunt contracted, and you pressed your ass back into him, deepening the angle for his dick. Tighter and tighter you wound until all that pent up energy exploded outward on a ripple that nearly had him swallowing his tongue. That shock wave blasted into his very center, igniting a mad craving he could only sate by pushing your chest to the table, mauling your hips, and rutting into you shamelessly.

Rough and fast, he pounded at you like a savage. He lost all measure of composure, quaking at the twinge in your cunt that didn’t abate. A step in to broaden his stance had him lifting you off of the ground entirely, holding you in that mind-numbing right spot. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he saw explosions of white. He gnashed his teeth, and an inhuman snarl erupted a second before he came undone and flooded you for the second time.

Twice more before dusk, you had him, obliterating any normal refractory period with your mouth, your always damp and open pussy, and your zealous, unrelenting drive. His mind turned to mush. All he could think about was soothing your starvation, even if for a moment.

Trying to keep some bit of his sanity, he fought to remember you had to rest, to eat and hydrate. There was scant time between bouts, though, to fit it in. Although neither of you had eaten since the morning, your biological imperative was too great to slow, as was his. The midnight solution found him seated at the little kitchen table with you facing him on his lap and his cock buried deep.

He fed you between passionate kisses, licking the clementines juice from the roof of your mouth. He didn’t want to say it aloud, but he didn’t think he was going to make it through however long this would last. Each time he pulled out, it was a matter of minutes before your skin burned. He always relieved you, surprising even himself, but he worried there was still something he was doing wrong, something he didn’t know he should do.

Languidly, you rocked your hips, shifting against his dick. He nudged at your nose with his and slid a date into your mouth, absently holding your outer thigh with human fingers. You slid both arms around his neck and lured him into forgetting he should make you eat with a kiss that had him chirping into your mouth.

The sound of it reminded him of who and what he was. Without really deciding it, he abandoned the idea that he had to figure it all out himself. He was here with you, in a moment he never believed he would have, and he believed you would tell him if there was something else important.

“Listen.” You whispered into his ear, and Clyde stopped moving as though it would help him hear you better. “Can you hear it?”

He held his breath but shook his head gently. Tears sprang to his eyes because he didn’t know what he should hear, and he already felt like he was failing you. He’d just given up that concern, but it roared back to the forefront of his brain. He was drained, having started the day starving for food and having spent the day starving for you. It was all so overpowering; he was losing the fight to stay strong for you.

But maybe staying strong wasn’t the point.

“Nnm. There it is.” You licked at the shell of his ear, still moving in a steady rhythm, but all he could hear was his own sniffling. “It's the sound of my Omega,” your low voice in his ear tripped a shudder down the length of his spine. “Lettin’ go of what he thought he had to be.”

That was it. The tears came. He wrapped both arms around your torso and cried into your shoulder.

“I want what you’re not giving me.” You crooned against his temple. Your hands moved to the chair back, using it as leverage and moving against him more urgently. “Hm?”

Clyde sniffed again and glanced up, eyes round at the look on your face. Patient. Calm. Possessive. He leaned up tall and pressed his head back to rest between your hands. He nodded in response, astounded at how you unwrapped him layer by layer. You clamped around his cock so tight he thought he might cum right then. 

“Don’t think ‘bout before. Don’t think ‘bout last time or next time. Be here. Right now.” 

The simple command made his dick jerk, and he blushed, pink dancing across his nose, cheeks, and chest.

Suddenly shy, he bit his lip to keep from looking away. You nudged at the end of his nose with yours, exactly the way he had. His lips quivered because it was the flip of the same coin. He did it to show you his affection, his devotion. You did it to ground him, to show him you were here with him, and to draw him back to you. Lost in that feeling, in the way you watched him, Clyde didn’t really know when, but he began to move with you.

It wasn’t rushed or anxious. The roll of your hips was enticing, the pressure from your weight on his cock was heavenly, and it helped him reach depths of your cunt he didn’t always get to enjoy. Holding your chest to his, you kept your eyes on him and your lips so close you shared his breath.

His hands splayed across your ass, caressing rather than clinging, following rather than guiding. A soft whimper escaped his tenuous hold on his tongue because this felt like more than heat, more than fucking. It felt like a claim, a brand, something more than feeling, more than any word he could put to it. He didn’t want it to end; but too soon, he felt the telltale throb.

“Alpha?” He nearly begged, but he didn’t know why. He fumbled through choppy breath to get the words out. “T-tell me not t’close my eyes.”

You hummed, clearly pleased. He watched it flicker across your face, softening already tender features. A fresh surge of slick wafted up between your bodies, punctuating the sloppy sounds now coming from where you rode his dick.

 **“Watch me.”** You licked at his lips, murmuring against the corner of his mouth. **“Don’t look away.”**

Clyde’s hips lifted to meet yours. The pins and needles he felt at the base of his spine inched forward, and he felt warmth pool in his belly. Brow furrowed, he focused on the way your lips stayed parted instead of the way his cock felt like it was going to split open. He traced your nose all the way up between your eyes in an effort to not think about the way you squeezed him in practised tempo. He let himself drown in the glitter of your eyes and the way you looked at him like he was the last meal on earth.

 **“Almost?”**

You shifted your thighs further apart at his nod, giving him that much more of your clutching pussy. You licked your lips in anticipation, and he copied the gesture, eyes glued to the way you panted. His heart hammered, caught between an ache and a fullness he couldn’t remember ever feeling.

“Darlin’,” He swallowed, feeling awkward and perfectly placed at the same time. “M’gonna…” He wasn’t sure what he was about to do, and he fumbled for the right words. This didn’t feel like before. He wasn’t delirious and stumbling towards it without knowing. He was fully in his mind, and it was coming anyway. “Kn-knot. M’gonna knotfuckfuck!”

He found that angle that burst fireworks behind his eyes. Ever since that first day, if you were on him in that right way, with your weight and the rub of your cervix, he absolutely would crack apart. He moaned and moaned and moaned, feeling like his bladder emptied instead of just his dick. The feeling that his cock would split in two settled, changing from pain to relief with him locked into place, his place.

You purred and praised him, nuzzling his jaw with the bridge of your nose and watching him come undone. You kissed away his tears and leaned into him, tucking your cheek against his shoulder and resting with your lips at his pulse. For the first time today, you settled against him, soothed and quiet.

Safe inside the bubble, he dozed with you, propped up in the kitchen chair.

For three days, it was like this. Neither of you could rest unless his knot sealed up your cunt; and even then, it was little more than a couple of hours at a time. If you woke before him, you fucked him into consciousness. If he woke before you, he writhed against you and begged you to fuck him again. You had him over and over until he could let go and give you his knot.

You had him in the laundry room, in the kitchen, on the floor in the hallway. You chased him into the bathroom, into and out of the little nest he’d built in his bed. You tried to go with him when Jimmy came to drop off food, but he ended up fucking you against the door while Jimmy stammered that he would leave the bag right there. He pumped you so full of his cum he thought you surely could taste it by now.

You did what he asked. You didn’t hold back; you took from him exactly what you wanted, and Clyde hopped back and forth from rapture to desperation so much there was a permanent lump stuck in his throat. He felt as though he was on the verge of thankful tears with each breath.

Nearing the end of the third day, Clyde could feel the urgency dropping off. There was less stress, less haste buzzing beneath your skin, less compulsion to fill you on his part. It made the way you rode him on the back porch swing that much sweeter.

Wanting to escape the stuffiness inside the house, but not willing to open the windows and let your rich scent out, he’d retreated with you to the porch, hauling a quilt and half the nest he made to make it more comfortable. He had the swing specially built and installed when he bought the house, making sure it was long enough for him to lie down on and read into the evenings. He didn’t doubt it would hold you both, but it never occurred to him to test its sturdiness. But so far, so good.

He had one foot propped on the floor to keep the thing from swinging out of control. He trailed his knuckles up from your mons and between your breasts, admiring the soft sheen of sweat. The trail ended at your cheek, which he cupped to rub his thumb across your kiss-swollen mouth. You moved slow and deliberate, and it felt like this was for contact, for his touch.

Clyde felt complete. At peace.

“Darlin’, will you say something nice t’me?”

It always shocked him when he asked this. He never planned for it to leave his mouth, but it did more often than he wanted to admit. He knew you cared for him. He knew he belonged to you. He knew you thought he was sexy and sinful. He never doubted those things, which meant he didn’t understand why some part of him sought out these compliments.

Clyde’s stomach jumped up into his throat at the way you looked down at him. Perfectly framed by the moonlight over the mountain, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen with your wild hair and your shining eyes. Shifting around a bit, you tucked his foot back up under the quilt and leaned down to lie against his torso. You pressed your cheek against his sternum and hummed at the steady beat of his heart.

“Your hair looks nice today, doll.”

He laughed, a sudden peal of lightening the mood. It embarrassed him each time he asked that question, but you made him feel better for it with something sassy. Every damn time. 

“M’awful sweet on you, Clyde Logan.”

He smiled, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and exhaled, letting his body, riddled with bruises and bite marks, fall heavy and relaxed. It was the right kind of night for declarations of love, and he burrowed down into the covers with you to sleep right here under the stars.

“M’awful sweet on you, too, Alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone following this fic. It hits a special place in my heart, and I appreciate you all. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not repost my work to any other platform without my express permission.


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